


Some Dreaming State

by Bookkbaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF!Cas, Cas!whump, Hallucinations, M/M, Misunderstandings, Soul Bond, brief Dean/OFC, brief jealous!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookkbaby/pseuds/Bookkbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg wants a weapon. When Castiel refuses, she sells him out to Crowley. The Winchesters won't be happy... assuming they find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I selected 'Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings' because I wanted to warn for and explain some of the stuff that happens in this fic so as to avoid triggering anyone.
> 
> There is a scene, later on in the story, in which there is attempted rape and threats of sexual violence. (Castiel's hallucinations/Castiel)
> 
> There's also graphic violence and explicit consensual sex (Castiel/Dean).

The chamber was enormous, the walls practically invisible in the distance and the ceiling so far above his head Castiel couldn't be sure it existed. The whole space emanated a violent, bloody red light. He felt tiny in comparison; though he’d easily be able to fit inside this place in his true form, he’d been somehow bound in his vessel.  
  
His only consolation was that his opponent was apparently similarly limited, though to refer to Lucifer as 'limited' in any way seemed to be an underestimation of his power. Even in human form, the archangel still had great power at his disposal.  
  
Not that this was truly Lucifer. It was simply the manifestation of Sam's worst tormenter, an afterimage preserved during the transfer of the madness from Sam’s mind to Castiel’s.  
  
"You can't win against me, brother," Lucifer said, voice almost kind. He stood not twenty paces from Castiel, in the exact center of the room. He kept turning as Cas circled him, never presenting the weaker angel with his back but his gaze was more curious than wary despite the sword in Castiel’s hand. Lucifer had nothing to fear; Castiel stood no chance against him, as he had stood no chance against Raphael. This time, however, there was no Crowley with his silver tongue and seductive offers, there was no Purgatory, there was no Hell to borrow from, and there were no Winchesters to ask for help.  
  
"No Winchesters, Cassie? Even if they were here, do you think they'd help you?" Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"They're my friends," Cas said firmly. He took a firmer grip on his weapon, briefly pausing in his circling. "If they could, they would."  
  
"I think you'll find that you mean... if Dean could. If Dean could, he would," Lucifer said, voice like silk. "If Dean was here, if Dean stood a chance, if Dean hadn't left... Dean, Dean, Dean. He's all you ever think about. He's the only thought in your head; and let me say, it makes for very boring company."  
  
Castiel clenched his jaw. This being before him was not truly an archangel, but was merely borrowing the shape of one. It did not have an archangel’s powers. More to the point, they were fighting in Castiel's mind. By all logic, Cas should have been able to smite it and completely remove it from existence, even though it had proven stronger than he had originally anticipated.  
  
Pity that logic didn't seem to work as a weapon. He'd tried to heal Sam’s mind, and, upon failing, he'd taken the madness into himself to deal with. It should have been easy to destroy, but it had instead taken root.  
  
"Do you seriously believe that Dean will come back for you?" Lucifer asked him pityingly. "He left you here, brother. With me. He was probably happy for the excuse, considering that last time he saw you, you released the Leviathans from Purgatory."  
  
Castiel gritted his teeth. He had made mistakes, but as long as he still lived he could redeem himself. After he completed this task, he would be back to some semblance of normal. He'd be able to protect the Winchesters again.  
  
Lucifer laughed, high and cold, and Castiel took advantage of the false archangel's mirth. He leapt forward, blade in hand, and aimed his strike at Lucifer's throat.  
  
The laughter cut off abruptly and Castiel was falling through suddenly empty space. A hand caught the collar of his jacket and hauled him backwards. Castiel felt the sharp edge of a sword against his neck and he stilled.  
  
"You're slow," Lucifer commented casually. "Too slow to hope to overtake me by speed alone. You're an  _ant_  compared to me, Castiel." He took his blade away from Castiel's neck and shoved him forward in one smooth motion. Cas stumbled several steps before regaining his balance and turning, sword held defensively.  
  
"I am stronger than you," he said, though his voice was far from convincing. "You are no archangel."  
  
"True enough, I suppose," Lucifer said, shrugging. "But just because I am not whole does not mean that you are stronger."  
  
"'Whole'?" Castiel echoed warily, forcing himself to hold his ground when Lucifer stepped forward. As though sensing the effort Castiel was exerting by simply not running, Lucifer smiled.  
  
"I am not an archangel, not even a fallen one," Lucifer said softly. "I am merely... a piece. A little shard that hitched a ride out on an empty shell."  
  
Castiel tightened his grip on his weapon, dread slowly pooling in his stomach. If that was somehow true and he was not dealing with mere scars, but a piece of Lucifer’s Grace, then he was in serious danger.  
  
Lucifer's smile widened.  
  
"Did I ever thank you for letting me out, Cassie?"  
  


* * *

  
  
Castiel tucked himself into the corner, his back against the wall and his breathing coming in short, harsh pants.  
  
He'd been fighting Lucifer for what felt like weeks, though he had no way of knowing for certain. Time flowed strangely in here. Perhaps he had been inside his own head for months.  
  
If this was indeed his mind.  
  
He shook the thought off, but it clung to him, whispering doubts into his ear. Lucifer – the manifestation, he reminded himself – had told him this place was real, physical, but Castiel refused to believe it. This was not his reality.  
  
"Hiding will not save you." Lucifer's voice echoed around the room, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Castiel didn't move, trying to gather his Grace.  
  
He grew weaker by the day and Lucifer never seemed to tire; he would never be able to kill Lucifer outright. But perhaps a Cage would work. It was an imperfect solution, but hopefully sufficient.  
  
He only hoped he had enough Grace left to manage it. He had no anchor to form the foundations of the Cage, and given how distorted his sense of reality already was, he would need a touchstone in order to succeed. He could no longer tell if the chamber was real or a construction in his head and without that knowledge, there was every chance he would either become trapped in his head or even inside the Cage itself. There was every chance that the Cage would not hold.  
  
But he had to try.  
  
He pushed himself up from his position on the floor and walked towards the center of the room. Every time he had escaped to try and regain his energy, Lucifer had been waiting in the middle when he returned.  
  
Just the same as every other time, there Lucifer was, arms crossed and a cruel smile on his lips.  
  
“Ready for another round?” he asked, stepping forward. Castiel lifted his hand, willing his Grace to flare up and surround Lucifer. The archangel stopped abruptly as blue-white flames encircled his feet.  
  
Cas breathed heavily, pouring what he could of himself into the beginnings of the Cage. The flames grew higher and brighter, thickening and splitting into bars. Lucifer chuckled. The bars of the Cage shot up and bent, curving over Lucifer's head, and then Lucifer began to outright laugh. The archangel waved his hand and the world around Castiel vanished.  
  
The gigantic chamber was gone in one blink and in the next, it had transformed into a room with no visible limits. The space was at once incredibly massive and cramped, and there was an aching, desperate loneliness in the very air. Cas hovered, not quite floating and not quite flying, and he realized that he no longer wore his vessel. He was in his true form, pure light and Grace, and somehow the realization made him feel even more vulnerable than he had within the confines of human flesh.  
  
Sudden pain and misery slammed into his senses and he gasped with the force of it, dropping several feet towards the unseen floor before catching himself. He felt dizzy and shaky and he turned, trying to find the source. He saw nothing; the space was endless, and now screams and horror echoed from every corner. Mixed in with the horror was sick delight and Castiel's Grace recoiled from it, but there was nowhere to run. The sounds and the sensations were everywhere.  
  
There was no light here. Nothing good touched this place; there were only the screams and pain of the damned, and the devastating loneliness dragging him down.  
  
"This is what you would send me back to, Castiel?"  
  
It was Lucifer's voice, but not that of his vessel. It was his true voice, echoing and  _angry_. The voice alone felt several times more powerful than Castiel and the weaker angel flinched instinctively. Then he steeled himself, reaching for his sword.  
  
It had vanished.  
  
"Oh no, Cassie. You don't get a toy. Not here."  
  
There was a moment of stillness, heavy with foreboding, and then every one of his senses started shrieking 'danger'. He felt like a small kitten before a tsunami and he would be wiped away if he didn't run. It wasn't even a choice.  
  
In shreds, he was of no use to anyone.  
  
He dove, instinct pulling him towards the far-distant floor. He could feel Lucifer’s presence coalesce behind him, not close enough to be an immediate threat but not far enough away to safely ignore. Invisible hands shot out from nowhere. They pulled at Castiel's wings and his Grace, nails raking and tearing into his being. They slowed him down, little by little, each fraction of a second allowing Lucifer to come that much closer.  
  
And then Lucifer was right there, grabbing at him. If he found a hold, the archangel would tear him apart.  
  
Castiel drew his wings in tight to his body and folded his Grace in on himself as though he still wore Jimmy's body, hoping that a smaller target would be more difficult to grasp. He slipped through Lucifer’s fingers and felt a moment of triumph, then fear as he began to fall more rapidly.  
  
Instead of the somewhat controlled glide of moments before, now he just dropped like a stone. He felt hands brush him, trying to catch and hold him, but the farther he fell the faster he moved until he was dropping too quickly for anything to grab or to follow.  
  
Lucifer's voice echoed in the Cage, even more infuriated.  
  
"There is no escape, Castiel!"  
  
But there was something. There was a gentle tug inside of Castiel, pulling him down and getting stronger as he fell. The 'something' felt like safety, like a place to perch while he recovered. The feeling grew more and more powerful, and then-  
  
Castiel slammed into the floor. He lay there for eons or seconds or infinities, completely disoriented. By the time he came back to himself, Lucifer had caught up to him. Lucifer loomed above him, glorious and brilliant and taking up Castiel's entire field of vision.  
  
"And where were you going, little brother?" Lucifer asked softly. His presence spread out, growing a bit thinner, as though indicating the expanse of the Cage. "I have been trapped here almost from the dawn of time. I have searched for every weak point, but there are none."  
  
The sense of safety that had called to Castiel thrummed beneath him, trapped by the floor but hammering away at it as though trying to get in. The sensation had an odd ring of familiarity to it, as though he knew the whatever-it-was beneath the floor.  
  
"You are just as trapped here as I am," Lucifer said, reaching for Castiel. "You will be with me until the Apocalypse."  
  
There was no time left to make a choice. Lucifer’s hand was scant seconds away from contact. Without questioning the wisdom or potential consequences of his actions, Castiel turned to face the floor and punched at it with all his strength. He wasn’t sure what he expected to come of the action. A large part of him had expected absolutely nothing, especially not on the first blow, but something happened. Castiel stared, shocked, as the floor warped around his hand, as though the Cage's bottom was made of some kind of very thick honey. His arm passed through almost up to his shoulder before the momentum of his strike finally vanished.  
  
He could sense an energy surrounding his hand, something that resonated beautiful and golden in his mind. It felt like coming home.  
  
The sensation flooded up into him, geysering up around his arm in the form of bright, golden light. The light felt beautifully warm to Castiel, wrapping him in protection, affection, and everything real and good. The light moved like water, splashing over the Cage and rising, flowing up along the invisible walls and dissolving whatever it touched like acid.  
  
"What is this?" Lucifer demanded, shocked. Castiel wouldn't have answered even if he could have; the golden light was sucking him in, surrounding him as though it were sentient and pulling. It wasn't quite painful, but it was powerful and Castiel had no desire to resist.  
  
The last thing he heard before he was dragged through the honey-thick floor was Lucifer screaming in rage and then in pain. Castiel had no time to consider what that might mean before he found himself standing by an unfamiliar path.  
  
The light ushered him onto it, encouraging him to move forwards. The path looked like a dark, dusty road he had not dared to travel before. The glow urged him on, insistent, and he allowed himself to be coaxed forward. Cautious curiosity spurred him along and he followed the glow to a presence that was becoming more and more familiar to him the closer he came to it.  
  
As he drew closer, he could smell the scents of oil, gunpowder, and the faintest hint of blood. Old leather and cheap deodorant, and a soul too bright for all the things it had suffered. Castiel found himself speeding up, his mental projection moving automatically and powered by desire rather than thought. The light was just able to keep up with him and leapt around his feet joyfully.  
  
 _Dean_.  
  
Castiel reached for Dean as he neared the end, wanting to bury himself in the human's presence and catch his breath and soak in the glory of the fledgling bond between them. He hadn’t recognized it for what it was when he had first touched it because he had made sure to block it off right after it had formed, when Castiel had raised Dean from Hell.  
  
The bond had grown, despite all odds, despite the lack of nurture on both sides; Castiel had resisted the urge to encourage its growth and Dean had no idea the bond existed.  
  
He could never know. Once, perhaps, Dean would have allowed it, possibly even welcomed it, but after everything that had happened, this would be the last thing Dean wanted. Nothing good would come of making Dean aware that the connection existed, and the surest way to alert the human would be by barging into his mind and taking refuge the one place Lucifer could not follow.  
  
Castiel stopped and the light halted with him, tugging at him and enticing him to travel further. It was tempting. Just a bit further and his mind would be touching Dean’s; a bit further still, and their spirits would be entwined. Then, when Castiel had reached the very heart of what made Dean  _Dean_  and the hunter reached back, their bond would be complete.  
  
Dean could be his anchor, his touchstone to reality that allowed him to Cage Lucifer permanently.  
  
But once completed, the bond would be unbreakable.  
  
He could never ask Dean for that, even assuming he saw the human again. Dean was very private and slow to trust; he wouldn't even like the shallow connection they already had, much less anything approaching the depth necessary for a full bond. Castiel had betrayed Dean too many times for him to allow it.  
  
The bond wrapped gently around Castiel, simultaneously trying to drag him and push at his back. Castiel soothed it, sending tendrils of his Grace into it even as he backed away from the path. The light tried to hold him, but he slid through and retreated, leaving it reaching out for him.  
  
He skirted the empty places where Jimmy’s spirit had resided while the man had lived, tethers that had been empty since before Cas had woken as Emmanuel. He had rarely visited the human whose body he had taken, but even so the absence of the man’s soul was jarring and unnerving. Angels were not meant to inhabit human bodies by themselves, but it had been a long time since ‘angel’ adequately described all that Castiel was.  
  
Cas moved from the deeper parts of his mind back towards consciousness, feeling his awareness of his physical form grow. He could once again feel his arms, his legs, his heartbeat, and the motion of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled. The scrubs he wore were thin and over-starched. He could smell the distinct scent of the hospital; lemon cleaner, antiseptic, fresh paint, and disease. Overlaying that was something flowery that seemed familiar, but Castiel couldn’t place it.  
  
"Hello, Clarence."  
  
Castiel opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear his vision. The darkness receded and he saw Meg, slouching in a chair with a glossy magazine open on her lap. Cas glanced around the room warily, but saw only the featureless white walls and the closed door. Some of the walls had streaks of slightly off-color white, but Castiel couldn’t make out the patterns. Lucifer was nowhere to be seen and Castiel breathed out a long, nearly audible sigh of relief. Perhaps he would be spared from seeing hallucinations.  
  
"It's about time you woke up," Meg said, closing the magazine and dropping it carelessly to the floor. The sound seemed to echo in the room. Meg leaned forward, crossing her arms over her knees. "You've been out of it for two weeks."  
  
"Meg," Castiel said, voice neither polite nor antagonistic. "What are you doing here?" He could still feel the bond in the back of his mind, clamoring for completion. He tried soothing it, touching it with his Grace to try and convince it to calm down. It settled slowly.  
  
It was a bit unnerving and a bit surprising how energetic the bond was. He had thought that he could simply ignore it and it would go dormant again, but he might need to build another wall to keep it at bay. Cas couldn’t, in good conscience, allow it remain active.  
  
Meg smiled coolly.  
  
"Do you really have to ask?" she said. "The boys appointed me your guardian. Guess that means they think I'm trustworthy."  
  
Castiel looked towards the far wall, mouth set in a thin line. He needed no reminders of how far he had fallen in the Winchesters' estimation.  
  
"Sorry, did I touch a nerve?" Meg asked, more delighted than apologetic. She got out of her chair and sat instead on the edge of the bed, close to Castiel. The angel tensed. "Look, Clarence, Sam and Dean-o might be gone, but I'm still here. I watched over you."  
  
"A favor I'm sure you're about to ask me to repay," Castiel said flatly, looking at her. Meg grinned.  
  
"Nothing big, just a little something to make the time I spent watching you worth it," she said, casually sliding closer. She smoothed a hand over Castiel's cheek, his neck, and then his shoulder, scratching her nails lightly over the sensitive skin. Both Castiel and the bond bristled at the touch. "Just a little assassination. Well, a few." Her grin widened. "I need a power vacuum at the top, one just big enough for me and a few associates to slide into. It won't even take you long, and then the debt is clear and you can protect your beloved boys again." She shrugged. "Or, if you prefer, bodyguard work."  
  
"I owe you nothing," Cas said. The bond was still acting up, unhappy with both his distance from it and his closeness to another. It tugged at him and he responded by pushing it to the back of his mind. It clung to him stubbornly and he gave a short, somewhat wistful sigh as he raised his defenses against it. His Grace formed a thin wall between himself and the bond. The world seemed to darken when he did so, but he ignored it as a flight of fancy.  
  
He'd definitely have to block it off properly later. He felt a pang of loss at the thought, along with a selfish desire to allow the bond free rein, but he had to be strong enough to resist the urge. He would not violate Dean’s trust again.  
  
"Aw, Clarence, don't be like that," Meg said, shifting even closer to Cas. He held his ground, ignoring the uncomfortable proximity. "I won't harm a hair on the Winchesters' heads, all you need to do is this little thing... if I make a deal, you know I have to keep it."  
  
"No," Castiel repeated firmly. "I am done making deals with demons."  
  
"Geez, Cas, where was this attitude before?"  
  
That wasn’t Meg’s voice.  
  
Castiel jerked his gaze to the door, stunned. Dean stood in the now-open doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and an annoyed expression on his face.  
  
"Dean," Cas breathed. One corner of Dean's mouth quirked up, but the smirk wasn't a happy one. There was a subtle wrongness about his face, like something was hiding just beneath the skin.  
  
"Maybe if you had had this attitude about making demon deals before this whole mess with Crowley, you wouldn't be here now," Dean said. "Hell, maybe none of us would." He closed his eyes briefly and, when he opened them, they were coal-black.  
  
Castiel reacted on instinct, shoving Meg aside and nearly tripping over the blankets in his haste to get off of the bed. He heard Meg give a cry of surprise, but ignored it. Demons rode their hosts hard, but surely Dean hadn't been possessed too long. Surely Dean, as an archangel's true vessel, would be sturdier than most hosts. There had to still be time.  
  
Surely Castiel could simply exorcise the fell thing without harming the human. He usually smote demons outright, but if he could manage to manipulate his Grace carefully enough, it should be possible.  
  
He extended his arm, reaching to place his hand on Dean's forehead, but the demon smirked and stepped back. It drew a knife from the inside of Dean's jacket and held it up to his own throat. The blade was simple, cheap, and nothing that could hurt the demon. Only the host.  
  
Castiel stopped, hand still outstretched.  
  
"Good, you understand," Dean said. He chuckled. "You know, he's cursing at me. Guess he's not a fan of being possessed." The demon ran a hand down his front, stopping at the belt. "Too bad for him I'm rather fond of his meatsuit."  
  
"This isn't real," Cas said, lowering his hand slowly. He shook his head once. "I'm hallucinating. Dean has a tattoo to protect against-"  
  
"See, here's the thing," the demon cut in, bringing his hand back up to tug at the collar of Dean’s shirt. Castiel could see the edges of a semi-healed injury, just barely scabbed over, but it looked as though it covered a good portion of Dean’s left pectoral. "Tattoos? They don't work so well when the skin isn't attached anymore."  
  
Castiel whirled to face Meg, energy crackling around him with the force of his anger. He kept half an eye on the demon possessing Dean's body, especially on the small knife still held against Dean's throat.  
  
"You swore not to harm them," he snapped. "Why would I work for you when you've already broken the deal?"  
  
Meg's expression lost some of its usual confidence, hints of unease and confusion sneaking in.  
  
"I haven't," she said, sitting up straighter on the bed and watching Castiel warily. "And what do you mean, hallucinating?"  
  
"I..." Castiel said, looking back at Dean. The demon was still smirking, eyes still dark.  
  
"Oh, yeah, I'm not really here," Dean said. "It's not like the boss ever manipulated anyone. I'm just a figment of your imagination, Cas." The demon pressed the blade harder into his borrowed neck, drawing a line of blood. "This isn't real blood. It's fake blood, just like I'm not really Dean."  
  
"There's no one here but you and me," Meg said impatiently. She sighed and patted the mattress next to her. "Come sit down."  
  
"Of course, on the off chance that Meg is just acting and I am actually here... you might want to sit down," Dean said.  
  
Castiel didn't move, weighing his options. If Dean was indeed here, he didn't know what Meg hoped to gain by pretending he was not. Dean's life would be a more powerful bargaining chip if she acknowledged it, unless her goal was to mess with his head, or to get him to agree to be her puppet without having to actually hold up her end of the deal.  
  
Cas wondered where Sam was. Usually, wherever one Winchester went, the other was not far behind. That was easily explained away if Dean was just a figment, but Cas was not willing to gamble with the brothers' lives. Sam could just as easily be held somewhere else, or even in another room of the hospital.  
  
The bond pulsed gently at the back of Castiel's mind, but he hesitated before reaching for it. The more he touched the bond, the stronger it would grow, and eventually Dean was certain to notice. However, just once wouldn’t have that great of an effect. He needed to know if this was really Dean.  
  
He'd wall the bond back up once he was done.  
  
Cas carefully lowered the wall between his mind and Dean's, allowing some of the golden light to spill over into him. His next step would have been to trace the bond to Dean and find out where the human was, but the instant he made contact with the bond the Dean in the room looked annoyed. He flickered, annoyance morphing into anger and determination on his face before he vanished completely. The door was once more shut and not even a trace of Dean’s scent lingered in the room.  
  
An odd mix of relief and unhappiness shot through Castiel. It had been a hallucination, confirming that, yes, he could see them outside of his own head and he likely would again, but at least the bond seemed to be able to get rid of them.  
  
It was likely a temporary measure at most, but it was better than nothing. He couldn’t rely on it as a permanent solution, lest Dean notice.  
  
Cas turned back to Meg.  
  
"Get out. There will be no deal," Cas said. Meg adopted a look of disinterest and shrugged.  
  
"I'll give you until tomorrow to think it over," she said, standing up. She brushed invisible lint off of her pants and walked passed Castiel. Just before she left, she turned and smiled thinly. "And don't get any ideas about flying off. I've had a bit of fun with... I guess you could call it an art project?" She patted one of the walls affectionately. "I couldn't get my hands on holy oil, and I'd probably be fired for lighting it up, but these should work on anything below an archangel." She looked at him and winked mockingly. "And let's face it, Clarence, you're no archangel."  
  
At once, the meaning of the small, off-white patterns on the walls became obvious.  
  
"Meg-" Castiel growled threateningly, taking a step forward, but she was already opening the door and halfway into the hall. She shut the door and gave him a cheeky little wave through the small window before leaving.  
  
Castiel walked immediately to the door, hoping the demon wasn’t as clever as she thought herself, but found he couldn't even touch the handle. He walked around the room, searching for an escape route, but it was as if an invisible barrier stood between him and the door, the walls, and the window. His hand just slid away, never making direct contact with any of it. He glanced towards the floor, wondering if perhaps that was a viable escape route, but then realized that he'd never been standing on the floor to begin with. The invisible bubble curved under his feet as well, though it was so thin he couldn't feel it and he doubted the miniscule distance between the bottoms of his feet and the floor was noticeable to humans.  
  
Meg had done her research well. The angel-containment sigils she had traced on the walls were similar but different to the ones Crowley had used to keep angels out of his mansion. They were less effective for trapping angels than holy fire, but unfortunately effective enough to keep him confined. He wouldn't be able to leave the room until one of the sigils had been broken, but he couldn’t so much as touch them.  
  
If he had his full strength, he might have been able to do something, but the battles inside his head had taken their toll.  
  
He walked back to the bed and sat down. The bond was still active in the back of his mind, taking small sips of Grace to strengthen itself. The angel shut his eyes, already mourning his actions before he withdrew his consciousness from the waking world and travelled back.  
  
The bond was where he had left it and it flashed warmth and light at him as a greeting, surrounded by little bits of Grace. Castiel gently but firmly pried it away, listening to it protest and wishing he was allowed to let it grow. If Dean were a willing participant in this, instead of the unknowing other half, perhaps the connection would be able to mature. Perhaps Castiel would be able to pour his energy into it and feel Dean's soul mixing with his Grace and hope for consummation.  
  
He let the fantasy go and headed to the other side of his mind, carrying the bond and trailing golden light behind him. There was one thing he needed to do before he could wall the bond up again; hopefully, it would be enough to solve the problem of the hallucinations permanently.  
  
He kept to the shallower portions of his subconscious, again skirting the place Jimmy’s spirit used to reside as he headed for the source of the madness. It was ugly, like a tumor of blood-red light infecting Castiel’s mind.  
  
He stopped at the edges of the madness, still cradling the bond. He let it go and it fell to his ankles, curling around them and offering support. The red light in front of them formed itself into the enormous red chamber Cas recognized, Lucifer standing just inside. Castiel leveled his arm, palm out and fingers splayed, at the archangel. He would end this quickly.  
  
"You're going to try to Cage me again, little brother?" Lucifer asked. "That didn't work out so well for you last-"  
  
Castiel ignored him and concentrated on pouring his Grace into a wall between the red chamber and the rest of his mind. The bond wrapped itself tighter around his ankles, providing what little strength it could; it surprisingly powerful for something so neglected, but that little boost wasn't enough to fully Cage Lucifer. It did, however, provide the tether to reality that Cas had been missing in his previous attempts.  
  
The wall sprang up between them, thick, strong, and translucent. Cas saw Lucifer throw himself against the barrier. The wall shuddered, but it looked like it would hold for at least a little while.  
  
Castiel turned away and moved back towards the other side of his mind, where the bond had originally rested and could be bound. The bond trailed after him, like a dog that knew it was about to be punished for some supposed crime.  
  
"You must understand, I have no right to you," Castiel murmured softly to it. "This is... for the best."  
  
His Grace was running low, but it was nothing that a few hours of recharging would not fix. Heaven believed him dead, and perhaps that was for the best as well. They hadn't cut him off from the Host.  
  
Behind him, he felt something shatter.  
  
He turned just in time to see the madness swarming towards him, covering the distance within a heartbeat and wrapping around him. The wall he had built had shattered.  
  
"Did you really think something so brittle could hold me?" Lucifer hissed, placing his hands around Castiel's neck and squeezing.  
  
Golden light surged up around Castiel, wriggling in-between the archangel's palms and Castiel's throat. Lucifer held on, his appearance flickering from that of his vessel to the red energy Cas knew as the taint he had lifted from Sam's mind and then back again.  
  
He gathered up the rest of his Grace, every shred, and threw it around Lucifer. The archangel struggled, trying to break the 'rope', but Castiel kept it moving, slithering like something living. With the bond at his back for support, he dragged Lucifer back to the red chamber where they had fought.  
  
Visions appeared along the path, but they were weak and insubstantial in comparison to what Lucifer had managed to conjure before. Angels Cas had killed crowded around him, the madness manifesting through the small gaps in the restraints Cas had fashioned from his Grace. Castiel trudged on, trying not to look at the faces of those brothers and sisters he had murdered.  
  
The bond circled around him, sending weak pulses of light towards the apparitions as if wanting to drive them away, but unable.  
  
The visions grew stronger the closer Cas drew to the chamber, reaching out and pulling at him, calling his name.  
  
"Castiel-"  
  
"-was this truly what Father wanted-"  
  
"-my leader..."  
  
It took more effort to ignore the cries than he would have hoped. He could feel Lucifer thrashing inside of the Grace containing him, loosening the hold, and tightened his grip. His Grace was burning down to mere embers of power but he doggedly walked on, wading through the bodies. Blood began slowly rising around his feet, slowing him down.  
  
"This isn't over, Castiel," Lucifer said calmly as Cas tossed him into the red chamber. "No matter what you do, nothing will hold me for long."  
  
"I know," Cas replied. He took a deep breath and ripped his Grace away from Lucifer before spreading the same blanket of Grace across the entrance to the chamber. The visions around him vanished. The Grace wavered and shimmered, but instead of solidifying into a wall, Castiel kept it moving.  
  
Lucifer pounded at the wall, trying to break it as he had the first, but Castiel directed Grace to fill in the cracks and didn’t allow Lucifer so much as a fissure to break through.  
  
Lucifer stopped attacking the wall after a few minutes, a slightly unhappy expression on his face at the lack of effect his efforts seem to have. Castiel was exhausted, but he held himself firm and tried not to let it show.  
  
"Clever," Lucifer admitted softly. "Keep your Grace moving, never let it settle, and it will bend instead of break. You'll be able to contain me somewhat, though never completely." Lucifer met Castiel's eyes and stared through them. "You'd need to build a Cage for that, and you don't have the strength or the foundation."  
  
The bond writhed around Castiel, angry and protective, but Cas was done. He walked away from the chamber, though he kept his senses on the thin Grace barrier dividing the madness from the rest of him. Lucifer had taken to striking the wall again, trying to bring it down.  
  
Cas had no energy left to cage up the bond. He would have to let it roam free tonight and try not to touch it. One night wouldn’t make that much of a difference, but it would allow him a safety net while he got used to the constant manipulation of Grace the new, living wall would require.  
  
Just for tonight, and then he would wall the bond back up.  
  
The bond tried to hold onto him, but weakly, and Castiel easily brushed it off. The angel rose back to consciousness in his physical body, weary but blessedly hallucination free, at least for now. His head was pounding and he felt drained, but he couldn’t afford to let his concentration waver from the rhythm of motion, bending without breaking, and repairing going on inside his head.  
  
He settled in to meditate, the closest he could come to sleep, and devoted half of himself to maintaining the barrier and the other half to regaining his strength. He devoted nothing at all to watching the bond.  
  
The golden light spread carefully over a corner of his mind and started putting down roots, but in Castiel’s carelessness or selfishness, he did not notice.  
  


* * *

  
  
Dean's eyes snapped open and he shifted uncomfortably on the passenger seat of the crappy little Camry he and Sam had 'borrowed' a few towns back. He rubbed one of his temples, then ran his palm over his face from forehead down.  
  
His head felt strange, like he'd been walking around with a headache for months but had never realized until it had broken. It almost felt like something had torn, but it didn’t hurt.  
  
"You awake?" Sam asked him quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the low rumble of some God-awful country music station. Dean scowled at the radio and shook his head dismissively.  
  
"Yeah, 'm awake. My turn yet?" he asked. Sam shook his head.  
  
"I've only been driving for an hour. You can go back to napping, if you want," Sam replied. They'd gotten wind of some possible Leviathan shenanigans on the other side of the country and were tearing ass to get there. They hadn't paused much for sleep, instead taking turns driving and power napping when not behind the wheel. It made for some very odd sleeping habits.  
  
Dean made a noncommittal noise and hauled himself into a proper sitting position, blinking at the clock on the car's dashboard. 7 p.m.  
  
"Great," he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his coat pocket. He dialed the number he had memorized over the past few weeks and pressed the phone impatiently to his ear, listening to it ring. Just before it went to voicemail, Meg picked up.  
  
"What?" she demanded. Dean's scowl darkened.  
  
"Hello to you, too," he said. He took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. This whole situation just grated on his nerves, if he was being honest with himself. He rarely was. "Has Cas woken up yet?"  
  
Meg sighed, exasperated.  
  
"I told you I'd call when he was awake. Clarence is still a drooling vegetable and the doctors don't know when he'll wake up."  
  
Dean looked out the window of the car, irritation and worry warring over his face and creating an expression he didn't want Sam to see. His baby brother was too damn good at reading him sometimes. Irritation won.  
  
"You'll call me as soon as he wakes up, right?" Dean said commandingly, daring her to refuse. " _As soon as_ , not five days later, not five  _minutes_  later-"  
  
"Yes, yes, right away. I know, Dean-o," Meg said. "Later."  
  
She hung up. Dean took his phone away from his ear and glared at it, then snapped it shut and shoved it back into his pocket.  
  


* * *

  
  
When Castiel's consciousness surfaced again the next morning, it was to the strange feeling of distant waves of sleepy contentment and echoes of hunger. Curious and slightly afraid they were emanating from his own body, he followed the sensations and found the bond. It glowed brightly and radiated happiness, nestled within his consciousness and roots penetrating the topmost level of Castiel's being.  
  
Cas studied it, stunned. The bond shouldn't have been able to progress this far, even unfettered, without either him or Dean acting on it. At this stage and with their current proximity, Dean would need to search for the bond within himself in order to even sense it existed. Castiel had done nothing with it all night, careful to keep his thoughts on his tasks and not let himself wander.  
  
His question was answered when he felt two small tendrils of Grace, barely perceptible even now that he was watching for it, peel away from him and sneak away to the golden glow, nurturing it.  
  
He pulled his Grace tighter around himself, trying to prevent more of it from acting without his conscious mind's direction, and crept closer to the bond. It thrummed happily, then shrieked indignantly as he began prying the roots up one by one. The bond dug in and wrapped around him, clinging to him, but Cas was resolute.  
  
Every root pried up left him feeling chilled, warmth he hadn't noticed before seeping away. He shivered, but continued. This was not something he could keep.  
  
Once the golden tendrils had all been pulled up, Castiel gently folded them over until the bond was a small, quivering bundle in his arms. By all rights, he should sever it, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. As long as he didn't let it entrench itself, surely it was permissible to keep just this?  
  
He heard a noise reverberating through his vessel's ears and put the bond down regretfully. It began to creep back to the hollow places where the roots had once been, intending to slide back into those slots, but Castiel slipped a thin sheet of Grace between the bond and his mind, solidifying it instantly so the bond couldn't draw power from it. Walls snapped up around it, caging it.  
  
The golden light pawed at the barrier, trying to break through, but the box held. Castiel allowed his mind to surface in the physical world once more, following the sound.  
  
"-tiel. Castiel?"  
  
Cas opened his eyes and came face to face with Meg. She was frowning, though she looked more irritated than upset.  
  
"About time," she said, upon noticing his attention. "Have you considered my offer?"  
  
"You should take it, little brother."  
  
Cas tensed, lips in a thin line as he registered Lucifer's voice. The archangel was leaning on the wall behind Meg, partially insubstantial but still there.  
  
"You knew that wall couldn't stop me. Frankly, I'm impressed you managed this much," Lucifer said, examining his hand, fingers splayed. "But if this is the best you can do..."  
  
"It is enough," Castiel said flatly. Meg looked frustrated.  
  
"What does that mean?" she asked. Castiel focused his gaze on her.  
  
"No," he said simply.


	2. Chapter 2

"Castiel."  
  
Cas stared straight ahead, doing his best to ignore the sound of Lucifer’s voice. It had been days since he had last seen Meg and a week since he had put the bond safely behind a wall once more. He’d left small holes, just enough to give him a tenuous connection to reality and maintain the thin Grace wall between himself and the madness, but not enough for anything else.  
  
He hadn’t even left himself enough of the bond to banish Lucifer. He could bear with just this, just the talking, and the wall between them left Lucifer little power to do anything else.  
  
He had sworn to himself to continue as though the bond did not exist, vowing only to touch it in the direst of straits. With any luck, he would never need it.  
  
"Brother, talk to me."  
  
The solution was imperfect and impermanent, the madness burning like holy fire behind the wall, but sufficient. He could take the pain; he owed the Winchesters at least this much.  
  
He could find a more permanent fix once Meg let him go. She had no more use for him, as he had refused to be her soldier. He only hoped that she would release him soon, not only so he could seek out a cure.  
  
With only the walls and Lucifer for company, his thoughts had inevitably turned to the reasons he was here. He hadn’t remembered his crimes when he had been Emmanuel and he’d had little time to reflect on them before shifting Sam’s madness into his own head.  
  
He had swallowed all of Purgatory in the belief that the power wouldn't consume him, and it had. And thousands of innocent humans had died and he had slaughtered hundreds of his brethren.  
  
Dean had stopped trusting him.   
  
"We're a lot alike, you and I."  
  
But Dean was safe. Sam was restored. That was all Castiel had wanted.  
  
As soon as he was cured, he would fly to Dean's side and help him. There were still things he needed to atone for, but he was useless to the Winchesters as he was. Surely not  _all_  of his Grace would go into containing his brother. He wouldn't be useful to Dean without his power and he refused to burden them with a mostly-human, half-mad version of himself.  
  
He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to smite the Leviathans. They were older than angels and he could very well be just as helpless against them as he had been against Raphael, but he could certainly try.  
  
"We both loved too much and were punished for it. You know what I mean, don't you, Castiel?"  
Cas didn't acknowledge the hallucination, refusing to look at the little table in the corner where his brother sat and watched him. He was nothing like Lucifer.  
  
The archangel moved and suddenly, it wasn't Lucifer in the room with Cas. It was Dean.  
  
"I suppose I should thank you for fixing Sammy," he said, walking closer to the bed. Cas tensed, unable to help himself. "But you and I both know you owed him that. You broke him, it was your responsibility to fix him. Took you long enough."  
  
This wasn't Dean, Cas reminded himself. It sounded like him, walked like him, and looked like him, but this was just a hallucination. He just wished that his subconscious had chosen some other person to recite all of his failings. Anyone else, but that was the beauty of this, wasn’t it? Lucifer was in his head, he knew exactly where to apply the pressure, but Castiel refused to break.  
  
"People are dying out there, man," Dean said, crouching in front of Castiel. Cas's eyes were drawn to Dean's like they had been magnetized. He saw no warmth in the green, just determination and righteous anger. The need to protect; it was something Cas was intimately familiar with. "We need you. You're the only weapon in our arsenal that can take out those gooey sons-of-bitches."  
  
"I... I don't know-" Realizing he was responding to the hallucination, he shut his mouth. He’d tried to stop responding after figuring out that it only encouraged Lucifer.   
  
“You make it too easy, Cassie.” Dean was Lucifer again and Lucifer was smiling. “I've been talking to you for days, but two minutes as Dean Winchester and you've finally spoken to me."  
Castiel pressed his lips tightly together, staring at the wall once more.  
  
"Oh, great, and now the baby's sulking again," Dean said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.  
  


* * *

  
  
Lucifer was reciting a list of all of Castiel's victims, angelic and human, when the door opened. Cas watched it warily. Meg had been absent for a week now and none of the other doctors had ever visited him. He had wondered about that when he had noticed the oddity, but he was fairly certain it was Meg’s machinations at work.  
  
Dean walked in. Cas stared, stunned. His eyes darted to where Lucifer had been, but the archangel had vanished. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the new Dean.  
  
"Stop this,” he rasped, voice dry from lack of use. “You won’t fool me again.”  
  
Lucifer had grown quite fond of this trick in the weeks that Castiel had been in the asylum. He appeared as Sam too, though less frequently. Sam had less of an effect on Cas than Dean did, though he cared dearly for both brothers.  
  
Dean seemed surprised, then his expression softened to one of regret.  
  
"Cas... Cas, it's me. Dean," he said, stepping carefully closer to the bed as though afraid Castiel would attack. Or run, Cas wasn’t sure which. "We came back to get you, Sam and me. I promised we'd be back, didn't I?"  
  
Cas looked around the room suspiciously. There was a flicker of movement at the corner of his eye and he turned to see Lucifer in the corner, waving at him. Powerful relief swept through Castiel. Lucifer was strong, but he couldn't manifest as both himself and another person at the same time.  
  
This had to be Dean. He knew that Dean wouldn't abandon him, not permanently. Dean was too good for that. Hope rose in his chest, too quickly for caution to follow.  
  
A small, quiet voice in the back of his mind urged him to check the bond, just let down the wall and touch it for a moment to confirm the identity of his visitor, but he silenced it. This close, Dean might sense it when Castiel accessed their connection. He couldn’t risk it.  
  
Castiel turned back to Dean, blinking for a moment to clear his vision. For a split second, Dean had seemed shorter, stockier, and dressed more darkly than was his wont. Cas looked him over again, carefully, but there was nothing strange about him when Cas looked closer.  
  
Spending so long with the same four walls and his brother for company might be starting to really drive him mad.  
  
"You did," Castiel finally said. Dean grinned triumphantly and reached for Cas's hand. Cas let him take it.  
  
"Found something that should help you," he said, reaching into the pocket of his coat and withdrawing a small silver cuff. It hummed with magic, something that felt dark and made Cas's skin crawl. Instinct screamed at him to pull back his hand, but he forced himself to keep still.  
  
"I need to put these on you, Cas," Dean said patiently. "You want to redeem yourself to me, right? You want to finish cleaning up your mess?"  
  
Castiel nodded slowly.  
  
"I promise, Dean," he said as Dean lowered the cuff to his wrist. "I'll find a way to redeem-"  
  
The cuff snapped into place and Cas's words ended with a sharp gasp as half of his body suddenly went numb. Dean dropped his wrist and it fell onto Cas's lap as the angel doubled over, gasping. Dean seized his other wrist and snapped on a second cuff and quite suddenly, it wasn't Dean holding his wrist in an iron grip.  
  
"Crowley," Cas said, eyes widening. Lucifer appeared behind Crowley, doubled over with laughter and more solid than Castiel had ever seen him in reality. Fear momentarily overcame his shock, but he squelched both and set his jaw in a determined line.  
  
"You should have seen your face, baby brother," Lucifer said. "When you thought Dean had come back for you. He left you. He and his brother both, they left you with me."  
  
"Hello, angel," Crowley said, smiling coldly. "Daphne sends her regards."  
  
"What did you do?" Castiel asked, voice quiet. Daphne had been a good woman. She had truly loved Emmanuel, even if he hadn't been able to bring himself to love her in the way that she deserved. Even without his memories, Castiel had always been utterly devoted to one human.  
  
"She required a bit of... persuasion," Crowley said. He raised a hand and snapped. Two more demons walked into the room. One went to one of the angel-containment sigils on the wall and used a knife to scrape off some of the paint before joining the second behind Crowley. "But don't worry about her. Her suffering is already over, but yours hasn't even started yet."  
  
The demons grabbed Castiel's arms and lifted him up, frog-marching him out of the room. He struggled, but his body was weak. All his strength seemed to have drained into the cuffs; he couldn't even feel an ounce of his Grace. He could still feel the bond, but only faintly and far beyond his reach.  
  
"A change of scenery might do you some good, Castiel," Lucifer said, trailing behind the demons. He smiled. "At least you still have me."  
  
The world dissolved around Castiel, the tile under his feet softening. He looked down and immediately regretted it; he was walking on fresh corpses, blood still oozing from their wounds and splashing up onto the bottoms of his pants. It reached his shins, then his knees.  
  
He closed his eyes, but that just intensified the smell of death and, above that, the grease, gunpowder, and old leather smell he had come to associate with Dean.  
  


* * *

  
  
"The only downside to Hell is that pain is different down there," Crowley said conversationally as he sharpened a small knife. "It's much less... immediate, much less real. Oh, it works well enough for turning humans into demons. Most humans don't understand real pain."  
  
Cas shivered on the cold metal bed he was strapped to, completely naked but for the cuffs on his wrists keeping his Grace locked down. It was still there, humming beneath his skin, but it slipped away from him whenever he tried to use it. He had tried reaching for the bond as well, so at least he would only have Crowley to deal with, but it hung far beyond his reach.  
  
"But you, Castiel, you know what pain is. You've been to Hell before, but I'll wager you've had less experience with pain on Earth."  
  
"His patter could use some work," Lucifer commented, idly picking filth from under his nails with one of the tiny hooks Crowley had. He examined his handiwork. "That's the problem with most demons. They're more into the physical torture when it's the mental that really gets to someone." Lucifer pointed at his own head on the last few words.  
  
"I'm no Alistair, but I've picked up a few tricks," Crowley said, walking over to Castiel's table. Lucifer grinned suddenly.  
  
"I’ve got a great idea! How about we make this a little more interesting?" he said. Lucifer snapped his fingers.  
  
Dean lowered the knife.  
  


* * *

  
  
"What do you mean, he still hasn't woken up?" Dean demanded into the phone. "It's been two months, Meg."  
  
"Exactly what I said, Dean," Meg replied coolly. "He hasn't stirred an inch. The doctors aren't sure why he's still unresponsive, so for all we know, he could wake up tomorrow."  
  
Dean sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair. Sam, seated across the diner's table from Dean, stared at him with concern furrowing his brow.  
  
"On the other hand, he might stay like this forever," Meg added casually. Dean tensed, free hand forming a fist and slamming down onto the table with enough force to nearly knock over Sam's iced tea. Sam caught it before the cup could topple and shot Dean an irritated look. Dean glared back and made a shooing motion, to which Sam rolled his eyes.  
  
Dean could sense some of the greasy diner's other patrons eyeing him warily after his little outburst, but he ignored them. Meg must have heard the sound of Dean's fist hitting the table, because she laughed.  
  
"Temper, temper," she said.  
  
"Call me if-  _when_  he wakes up," Dean growled.  
  
" _If_  little Castiel wakes up, I'll let you know," Meg said. She hung up. Dean stabbed the 'off' button with his thumb and slammed the phone shut before shoving it back into his pocket.  
  
"Cas still isn't awake, huh?" Sam asked quietly, gently. Dean grunted, but didn't dignify the question with any further response. He turned his attention to his lunch instead; Dr. Pepper, a double-cheeseburger with bacon, and some of the fries this little diner was apparently locally famous for. They had a good amount of grease, but had been served unsalted. Dean hadn't heard anything about their pie, but he'd seen apple pie on the menu and after the conversation with Meg, he deserved a slice or three.  
  
Sam, the giant girl, had gotten Caesar salad with grilled, not breaded, chicken, and was only using half of the dressing. He'd also gone with unsweetened ice tea, with lemon, for his drink. This was their last lunch here before they'd be off to another tiny, no-name town, hunting down rumors of weapons they might be able to use against the Leviathans. It was mostly a wild goose chase, but both felt like they needed to be doing  _something_.  
  
"Dean..." Sam said slowly, the way he always did when he was determined to start a conversation he knew Dean wanted to avoid. "If Cas hasn't woken up by now-"  
  
"Shut it, Sam," Dean said firmly. He picked up his burger and took a big bite, not meeting the younger Winchester's eyes.  
  
"-then he might not. Ever." Sam's expression was pained, but there was understanding there too and it pissed Dean off.  
  
"He'll wake up," Dean said tightly.  
  
"Look, Dean, I know he means a lot to you. He does to me, too," Sam said. Dean tensed, looking up and opening his mouth to protest, but Sam continued. "He's family and we've lost enough, I get that, but we have to be real here. Cas might never wake up."  
  
"'Family'?" Dean echoed, mustering up a derisive snort. It was weak and he looked back at his food, grabbing a few fries from his plate. "Dude cracked your gourd, Sammy." He shoved the fries into his mouth.  
  
"I've already forgiven him for that, Dean. Don't tell me you haven't," Sam replied. His voice held more warning than puzzlement and Dean scowled down at his food.  
  
"I haven't," he said, partly from contrariness and partly from guilt. Sam had always been his number one priority, over absolutely everything and everyone else, so how could he even justify forgiving someone that had nearly driven Sam to insanity and death? Sure, there was anger when he thought about what Cas had done, but it was something he could work past, if given the chance. If Cas woke up.  
  
Given his track record and how protective he was of Sam, 'moving past it' wasn't something he felt like he should even be contemplating.   
  
"Cas is gonna wake up and he'll help up gank those butt-ugly bigmouths, then he'll probably fuck off to hang with his buddies up in Heaven," Dean said, voice as confident as he could make it.  
  
"Dean..." Sam said, but then he lapsed into silence as though he'd lost his words. Dean tiredly shook his head.  
  
"Eat your rabbit food," he said, smiling tightly at his brother. Sam looked away, lips pressed together like he wanted to say something, but had no idea what. Dean turned his attention back to his burger, missing the way Sam's eyes wandered to the door of the restaurant and the sudden tension in the younger Winchester's body.  
  
"Dean," Sam hissed. Dean kept his motions deliberately casual so as not to draw attention to their table, but he also began instantly cataloguing every weapon he currently had on him and anything he could use within arms' reach. Every sense went on high alert, like flipping a switch.  
  
"What is it, Sam?" Dean asked, voice a bit quieter than usual. Sam looked back at him, anger now etched into the lines of his face, and though he tried to keep his movements nonchalant, there was a stiffness to his neck.  
  
"Check my eight," Sam said, picking up his fork and stabbing a few of the leaves on his plate, though he didn't bring them to his mouth. Dean glanced over at the counter where people ordered their food and froze in shock. The surprise lasted only a second before fury and steely determination replaced it.  
  
Meg stood at the counter, leaning over it provocatively and probably trying to flirt her way into free food. The cashier's gaze kept slipping down to Meg's chest, so Dean was pretty sure that it was working. His guess was confirmed when Meg walked away a few minutes later with a small plate of fries and a superior smirk. She didn't seem to notice the Winchesters at all.  
  
"Dean, we're more than two days’ drive from the hospital," Sam said.  
  
"I know, Sam," Dean replied, eyes following Meg as she sat down at a small booth towards the back of the diner.  
  
"If she's here..." Sam didn't need to finish his sentence.  
  
"I  _know_ , Sam," Dean repeated through gritted teeth. He tore his gaze from the demon bitch currently enjoying her fries and surveyed the rest of the diner. There were a few people scattered about, but not many. Dean slid out of his seat and picked up his tray. "Come on."  
  
Sam got up and picked up his own tray, casually following Dean as they walked towards the back of the restaurant.  
  
"You have the knife?" Sam asked in undertone as they approached. Dean nodded once and both fell silent. They didn't need words to move like one creature, Sam sliding onto the bench beside Meg at the same time as Dean slid into the booth on the opposite side of the table. Meg looked up, eyes flashing with shock before she covered it up with her usual confidence.  
  
"Hello, boys," she said calmly.  
  
"Fancy meeting you here," Dean said, smiling thinly. "You see, I was under the impression that you were in a mental hospital."  
  
Meg shrugged, unconcerned and not at all insulted. A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.  
  
"We never kissed on it, Dean. And honestly, did you really think your little threat scared me?" Meg asked, picking up another fry. "You can't exactly mail someone a stabbing and you were never in to check on your poor little angel. Did you really think I was going to stick around and look after a weapon I couldn't use?"  
  
Dean bristled.  
  
"We'll call Crowley," Sam said. "I'm sure he'd love to know where you are, unless you've given up on being the Queen of Hell."  
  
Meg's grin widened.  
  
"Please, by all means. Tell Crowley where I am right now. The information will be useless in five months," she said, chuckling. Her words gave Dean a feeling of unease and he exchanged confused looks with Sam. Sam shrugged a bit, a troubled expression on his face.  
  
"Five months?" Dean asked. "Why five months?"  
  
"That's how much longer I've got to go to ground," Meg said. "I originally asked for a year, but we settled on six months."  
  
"You made a deal," Dean said, realization sinking in. There was a weight in his stomach and a sense of foreboding with an unidentifiable origin. Something inside him was screaming that he didn't want to know and a voice inside his head was whispering frantically about what the pieces of this puzzle were adding up to. Meg's presence here, away from the asylum, a deal with Crowley, Meg's daily reassurances that Cas hadn't woken up yet...  
  
Dean swallowed heavily, stomach roiling.  
  
"What did you have that Crowley wanted?" he asked, mildly impressed with how steady he kept his voice.  
  
"You can't guess?" Meg asked. She sounded delighted, like she was getting way too much enjoyment out of Dean's ignorance. "Demons don't make deals with angels, Dean-o. Do you have any idea how major it was that Castiel was desperate enough to deal, even an unofficially?"  
  
Dean inwardly flinched but tried not to let it show. Meg kept talking, oblivious.  
  
"So of course Crowley made a big production out of it. He had made a deal with an angel and he was going to crack open Purgatory. He’d started as a lowly nobody, risen to King of the Crossroads, and then to undisputed King of Hell. He would have as much power as Lilith, maybe even more." Meg paused for a moment, picking up another fry. "Do you have any idea what it did to his reputation when Cas broke the deal and double-crossed him?"  
  
The weight in Dean's stomach doubled. He could feel Sam's horrified expression more than see it; Dean's eyes were fixed blankly on Meg's still-smug face.  
  
"Crowley was a laughingstock. So, naturally, he wanted a little payback, something to put his reputation back on track and reassert his power," Meg said. She chewed, allowing her words to sink in. "And guess what you boys placed in my lap?"  
  
"You didn't," Sam said, sounding more sick than disbelieving. Dean couldn't even find words. He kept replaying that day in his mind's eye, the drive away, his cocky proclamation of 'mutually assured destruction'... what utter bullshit.  
  
"Why wouldn't I?" Meg asked. "Did you honestly think I stayed there to help you? I needed a weapon and when Cas refused-"  
  
"He's awake?" Dean interjected, stunned. Sam shot him a pained, almost pitying look.  
  
"Of course. Woke up two weeks after you left."  
  
The table fell silent as the Winchesters absorbed that information. Dean felt the bile rise in the back of his throat and his eyes widened.  
  
"You said 'five months', but the deal was for six," he said slowly. "Does that mean that son-of-a-bitch has had Cas for a month?"  
  
Sam looked just as shocked and horrified as Dean felt.  
  
"A little over, actually," Meg said. "But yes."  
  
Dean shoved his tray to the side, clearing a path for him to surge across the table and grab Meg by the lapels of her jacket.  
  
"Where is he?" Dean growled, pulling her closer and trying to intimidate her by sheer proximity.   
He vaguely heard sounds of alarm from the patrons that had noticed the action in the back corner of the restaurant, but he didn't care. Meg had lost her smirk, but she didn't seem all that concerned, either.  
  
"Dean," Sam hissed. "Let her go!"  
  
Dean held on for a second longer, then slowly released the demon's clothing. Meg sat back in her seat and calmly picked up another fry.  
  
"Where is he?" Dean asked lowly. Meg took the time to eat and lick the grease off of her fingers before answering.  
  
"I don't know exactly where Crowley took him," she said. "But I'm willing to tell you what I know if you swear I'll walk out of here alive."  
  
Sam hesitated for a moment, apparently considering it, but Dean wasn't nearly so forgiving.  
  
"No deal," Dean growled. "Tell us, now."  
  
"Where's my carrot?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow. "The way I see it, I'm the only lead you boys have. I'm not asking for much, just a guarantee that I'll leave here alive." She smiled. "It's not a bad offer. What were you planning to do, stab me in front of all these people?"  
  
Meg nodded towards the room at large behind Dean, still smiling pleasantly. Dean turned slightly, scowling when he realized just how much attention he had attracted with his earlier outburst.  
  
"Fine," Sam said begrudgingly as Dean turned back to them. "What do you know?"  
  
"Not much," Meg admitted. "Rumors, mostly. Crowley wouldn't tell me his base of operations, of course."  
  
"How is this helpful?" Dean grumbled. Meg shot him an annoyed look.  
  
"Patience, Dean-o. I'm getting there," she said.  
  
Dean made an impatient 'well, hurry up' motion with his hand and Meg sighed.  
  
"Just like a man. Always wanting to get to the point rather than enjoy the journey," she said. She picked up another fry.  
  
"What do you know?" Dean asked through gritted teeth.  
  
"Crowley's supposedly holed up somewhere in St. Louis," Meg said. "Your angel should be there."  
  
"Can you narrow it down any further?" Sam asked.  
  
"He's probably in the basement of some building Crowley owns, or maybe an abandoned warehouse or something. I don't know." Meg ate another fry. "If he's still on Earth at all, anyway."  
  
Dean's insides went cold.  
  
"What do you mean?" he demanded. Meg smirked.  
  
"Crowley probably hasn't taken him to Hell, but if he has, you'll never get Castiel back. Well, not as himself, anyway," Meg said. Dean bristled. "Fortunately for you, Crowley likes inflicting pain. Pain in Hell just doesn't have the same... flavor, does it, Dean?"  
  
Dean's hands tightened into fists. Next to Meg, Sam flinched. Meg turned to him, false surprise lighting up her face.  
  
"Oh, I almost forgot. You've been to Hell too, haven't you, Sammy?" she asked sweetly. "Tell me, do you still hear the screams at night, or were you too far away in the Cage-"  
  
"Enough," Dean snapped, cutting her off. "Is that it?"  
  
"Yes," Meg said. She nodded at the door of the restaurant. "Can I enjoy my food now? We're done here, right?"  
  
Dean hesitated a moment, feeling the weight of the demon-killing knife against his ribs. He could gank Meg here, now, and it would be just desserts for everything she had done. Hell, it wouldn't be enough to pay her back for everything she had done; a quick, clean death was more than she deserved.  
  
"Dean," Sam said lowly, a question in his voice. The younger Winchester gave the other patrons in the diner a significant glance and Dean scowled.  
  
"Fine. We're going," Dean said, sliding off the booth's bench. Meg grinned, relaxing fractionally as Sam slid away from her as well. "But don't think for a second you're safe. As soon as we get Cas back, we're coming for you. And we'll hunt you down like the bitch you are."  
  
"I'm worried," Meg said, deadpan.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel wasn't sure if he should be counting his time in Crowley's torture chamber in weeks or months. He had lost track after twenty-three days, one blending into the next.  
  
Most days, it was Dean that cut into him. Some days, it was Sam, a few times it had been Balthazar. Some days, he was given a reprieve and Crowley was the one who tortured him.  
Lucifer was generally in the background those days, singing off-key or reciting all the reasons why Castiel deserved this. Every night, after Crowley was finished, Lucifer reminded him that no one was coming for him because no one knew where he was. No one was coming for him because Cas deserved this for everything he had done.  
  
His only comfort was that Lucifer rarely bothered with full hallucinations anymore. Occasionally, the room would turn hellish or heavenly; a mirror of anyplace Castiel had associated with torture in the past. It helped, too, that the madness was only able to animate one person at a time. He had witnessed shades before, in his head, but they were nothing like the apparitions Lucifer used to torture him in the real world.  
  
Castiel had hoped, in his darker moments, that he cuffs had taken enough Grace to render him mortal and he'd die. He had no idea where he'd end up - Hell or Purgatory or if he'd just become atoms of Grace scattered on the wind - but anything would be better than this.   
  
The door opened, hinges squealing. Castiel had tensed the first week or two when he heard that sound, but it had lost the power to affect him.  
  
"Cas?"  
  
Dean's voice. Cas closed his eyes wearily. Dean days were always the worst. The effect should have lessened over time, but Lucifer had a direct line to all of Castiel's fears and regrets and he played Castiel's mind and body like an instrument. Castiel knew he was no good to anyone like this, but it was a lot harder to hear Dean's voice say it.  
  
He felt something stir weakly in the far reaches of his mind.  
  
"Cas!"  
  
Hurried footsteps. That was new. Crowley never ran. He stalked.  
  
A hand came down surprisingly gently on his broken ribs. Cas let out a quiet hiss and the hand was drawn back as though the contact stung. There was a pause and then careful hands began rapidly loosening the leather straps keeping Castiel tied down.  
  
Cas turned his head towards Dean, looking at the man through one black, swollen eye. The other was still growing back.  
  
Dean looked faintly sick, hands pausing on the straps. Cas felt faintly ill in sympathy, knowing he must look a mess.  
  
Odd. He’d never felt the emotional echoes of the hallucinations before.  
  
"Fuck, Cas... what did they do to you?" Dean asked. He glanced towards the door and then back at Cas. "I swear to God, I'm going to murder Crowley for this." He sounded furious and he flung the restraints roughly to the other side of the table. Some of the straps were a bit tacky and stiff with half-dried blood, but the minor stings as they were ripped away barely even registered as pain.   
  
Cas noticed Dean's eyes lingering over the twisted bones that hadn't been set after breaking, the bruises, the pinpricks, the cuts, the small chunks of missing flesh, the missing toes and fingers... It was nothing Cas wouldn't be able to heal with his Grace. He was fairly sure. Assuming he was ever allowed unfettered access.  
  
"I..." Cas coughed, throat scratchy and dry. Dean moved to the other side of the table to free his other wrist and ankle. "I was wondering how long it would take you." It no longer mattered if he interacted with the hallucinations. He had nothing else in this place, nothing but cockroaches and the occasional spider or millipede.  
  
For some time now, he had been expecting Lucifer to try something like this. It had worked so well in the hospital; Dean was here, he had come to help Cas, he'd let Cas tag along and protect him and Sam.  
  
"Well, sorry for not being quicker." There was sarcasm there. There was a faint hint of honesty too. Lucifer had really outdone himself on this one. This was too close to how Dean would really be acting.  
  
"Are you going to have him decide that I'm better off here or are you going to make me watch him die?" Castiel asked. Sometimes, when Dean was torturing him, cuts would appear on his body to mirror any injuries Castiel received. Dean wouldn't even seem to notice, just continue on until his golden skin had turned snowy white from blood loss. Those were the only times Cas had wanted to ask him to stop; he refused to beg, not even now.  
  
Other times, Dean would tell him that he was better off where he was and he deserved this for thinking he could become God.  
  
"Who?" Dean asked, unlatching the last of the restraints. "Fuck it, let's go. You can tell me later. Can you walk?"  
  
Castiel didn't move. He didn't see the point; even if it looked like he was free, he didn't want to move and break the illusion. Surely he was still tied down, even if he couldn’t feel it.  
  
"Dean," he answered. Dean shot another glance at the door.  
  
"Whatever it is, you can tell me later," he said. "I'm going to need to carry you, aren't I?"  
  
Without waiting for an answer, he slipped one arm beneath Castiel's knees and the other under his shoulder blades. With a grunt of effort, he picked Cas up. Castiel didn't struggle. He could feel warmth flowing into him, golden and glorious, and he couldn’t find it in himself to protest.  
  
Lucifer had even gotten the rhythm of Dean’s heartbeat right.  
  


* * *

 

  
"We never should have left him, Sam," Dean bit out, cleaning his sawed-off shotgun with jerky, harsh motions while keeping his back firmly to the angel passed out on one of the beds in the motel room. The cuffs Cas wore glowed faintly underneath the blanket. Their mojo was probably why Cas needed to sleep and why he had been a bloody mess when Dean had finally found him.  
  
Just thinking about the sight still made the bile rise in his throat and anger burn low in his belly. If Cas had actually been human, there would have been nothing left to save. He’d cleaned up the angel as best he could, using bucketful after bucketful of water and a clean rag to wash the grime from Castiel’s skin. It hadn’t been quite enough, but that was the story of his life, wasn’t it?  
  
They’d bandaged Cas up after the sponge bath, but what they’d had on hand wasn’t nearly what they needed.  
  
"You couldn't have known-" Sam started to say, trying for reassuring, but Dean slammed the gun down on the table between them.  
  
"I did. I fucking knew Crowley was sniffing around, and I left him there. With  _Meg_." He spat the demon's name like it was the foulest curse he knew, and Dean knew quite a few.   
  
"Crowley didn't know where he was, though," Sam said. "And our lives aren't exactly safe, Dean. What could we have done? Taken him with us?" It was an odd reversal; Sam had been arguing to take Cas with them from Day One, but Dean had insisted he knew better. Cas would be safer there, far away from the Winchesters. But now Sam was being the reassuring little bro, not the smarter younger sibling.  
  
"Crowley didn't know, but Meg did. So did Daphne," Dean said tightly. He doubted Emmanuel’s wife had willingly turned him in, but demons had ways of getting information. "And we should have taken him with us. At least we could have protected him instead of just leaving him there and hoping Crowley wouldn't find him and hell-bitch wouldn't turn him over." Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm going to rip their damn LUNGS out."  
  
Sam went quiet for a moment, then:  
  
"Daphne?" he asked.  
  
Dean glanced down. This was one story he hadn’t share with Sam, though the younger Winchester had asked. He’d just said that he’d found Cas, never mentioning the painfully normal suburban home or the painfully normal wife. Everything had still been too raw.  
  
"His wife. Human. Normal. Guess she found him after he wandered out of a stream." Dean hadn't met the woman for very long, but she'd served him and Cas coffee while Dean explained about Sam's problem. A hunter wasn't active in the business for very long unless they had good instincts; Daphne wouldn't have sold Cas out. Not willingly. She'd really cared about him.  
  
He didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened to her.  
  
"His wife?" Sam echoed.  
  
Dean nodded.  
  
"Dean..." And there it was, the tone Sam used whenever he wanted to talk about feelings.  
  
"Can it," Dean said, getting out of his chair. "I'm going to check on Cas's bandages."  
  
Sam didn't say anything, just nodded and went back to his musty books. The cuffs were nothing either Winchester had recognized, but there had to be a way to remove them. If there was, Sam was determined to find it.  
  


* * *

  
  
Castiel's eyes snapped open. He drew in a shuddering breath and looked around, confused for a moment by the faded, peeling wallpaper and yellowed ceiling. This was neither Crowley's basement nor his room in the mental ward.  
  
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Of course, the imagined rescue would be followed by waking up in a motel room.  
  
He was covered in bandages, every major wound he had surrounded in layers of soft cloth. Not all of it was white - some bandages were plaid flannel, some were darkly colored. Most likely, a few shirts had been torn up to provide enough material to hold him together. He had been dressed in clothes a size too large for him, though they weren't large enough to be Sam's. Inhaling through his nose, Cas could smell Dean's aftershave and sweat.  
  
A part of him wanted to applaud Lucifer’s attention to detail. Of course he wouldn’t have any of his own clothes; he had been wearing scrubs when Crowley took him from the hospital, and naturally Crowley wouldn’t have stopped to collect his trenchcoat from his personal effects. No one rescuing him would have it, either.  
  
"At last, Sleeping Beauty wakes," Lucifer said, standing at the side of the bed and leaning over to smile down at Castiel. "I think I'm actually impressed, brother. Sammy didn't manage to sleep a wink after letting me in." He frowned. "Then again, I did have almost two centuries of memories between Sam and I to draw on."  
  
Cas ignored him and tried to sit up. He groaned weakly and had nearly managed it before there was suddenly another presence at his side.  
  
"Cas, you shouldn't move yet. You'll rip your stitches," Sam said, placing a hand carefully on Castiel's shoulder and trying to get him to lay back down. Cas stared at him, eyes wide in shock. His gaze darted from Sam to Lucifer. The archangel shrugged.  
  
"It gets boring, staying hidden. I couldn't have done it for long, even as amusing as it would have been for you to keep believing I invented this."  
  
"Sam..." Cas said. His voice was hoarse. Sam winced at the sound in sympathy.  
  
"I'll get you some water," he said, heading for the bathroom. He grabbed a glass from the dresser on his way in. Cas heard the sink running and then Sam was back, offering him the half-full cup. Cas accepted it somewhat uncertainly, eyes going between Lucifer and Sam to confirm that, yes, there really were two people with him.  
  
This couldn’t be an illusion.  
  
He sipped the water. It tasted cool and refreshing on his tongue, even though he knew it was probably lukewarm at best. He hadn't tasted anything that wasn't his own blood in too long.  
  
Sam hovered awkwardly at the side of his bed, a wince lurking just behind his eyes as his gaze darted from Castiel’s face, to his injuries, and then to one of the garish paintings on the motel room’s walls. Near-silence fell between them, broken only by Lucifer’s arrhythmic humming.  
  
“Now would be a great time to apologize, don’t you think?” Lucifer sing-songed. “For, well, everything. You don’t need me to remind you of what you’ve done.”  
  
Castiel pulled the water away from his lips, licking them absently to catch every stray drop. He held the glass in both hands and lowered it to his lap.  
  
He shouldn’t have been listening to Lucifer at all, but he couldn’t help hearing. Much as he hated to admit it, Lucifer was right.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam," Cas said, looking at the water glass.  
  
"Sorry for?" Sam prompted gently, trying to catch Castiel's eyes. Cas looked up and met his gaze, refusing to run from Sam’s reaction.  
  
“You deserve whatever he does to you,” Lucifer told him, voice quiet but serious.   
  
"For breaking your Wall," he said. "It was wrong of me. I never should have done that, and I-"  
  
"Cas..." Sam said. "I've already forgiven you for that. I forgave you for it even before you came back and fixed it." He half-reached for Castiel's shoulder as if to squeeze it supportively, but didn't want to hurt him further. Cas was still healing. "You're one of us."  
  
"Isn't that sweet?" Lucifer mocked. Cas glanced at him, lips thin with irritation.  
  
"Cas?" Sam asked, following Castiel's gaze.  
  
"It's nothing," Cas said. Lucifer grinned at him. Castiel turned back to Sam, reaching out tentatively to grasp the human's shoulder. He winced when he saw three of his fingers missing from that hand, only little stubs sticking out from his palm. He collected himself and continued. "Thank you."  
  
Sam smiled.  
  
"And, well... I'm sorry too. For stabbing you in the back." He winced. "Literally and figuratively."  
  
"It's been forgiven," Cas said.  
  
"What would Dean say if he walked in on that?" Lucifer asked. "You, getting all buddy-buddy with Sammy after nearly driving him insane?"  
  
Cas drew his hand back from Sam and looked around the room, shifting uncomfortably. Sam frowned, concerned.  
  
“How do you feel?” he asked. “If you’re in pain, we’ve got some ibuprofen…”  
  
“I’m fine,” Castiel said, shaking his head. "Where are we?"  
  
"About an hour away from where we found you. We demon-proofed the room as much as we could, but we need to get moving before anyone finds us. We didn't want to drive too far without treating your injuries, though." Sam made a vague gesture that encompassed all of Cas. "We figured that the cuffs were interfering with your healing abilities. We weren't sure how much they interfered, if you..." Sam's voice trailed off.  
  
"If I could die," Cas finished for him. Sam nodded, looking distinctly ill at ease.  
  
"He's still so kind," Lucifer said, reaching out as through to try and brush some of Sam's hair back from his face. Castiel tensed. "Even after everything you put him through, he still cares." Lucifer pulled his fingers back before making contact with Sam and looked at Cas, catching the angel’s eyes before Castiel could look away. “Then again, you are the Winchesters' only weapon against the Leviathans.”  
  
"The cuffs block most of my access to my Grace," Cas said, tearing his eyes from Lucifer. "Crowley had a witch forge them, but I know little else.” Crowley had been rather proud of the deal he’d struck to get the cuffs made and had let pieces of information slip while he’d held Castiel captive. Cas looked towards one of the far walls. “I won't be able to help you until they're removed."  
  
"It might take a while to figure out how to remove them. I think I've seen something similar to this before, but I can't remember where. The fact that they’re witch-made helps, though," Sam said. He paused a moment, then quietly added, "Will you be OK? Will everything… grow back?"  
  
Sam made an expansive gesture that encompassed everything from Castiel’s still-missing eye, to his fingers, his toes, and the tiny chunks of flesh Crowley had taken from various places on the angel’s body.  
  
"Once I have my Grace, yes. I will be whole again." Cas answered. He cleared his throat. “As for your first question… I cannot die.” He wasn’t sure if his answer was in the affirmative or negative. Something must have shown in his tone, because Sam's expression became flat-out worried.  
  
"Cas-"  
  
The door to the motel swung open and Dean walked in. He was carrying bags, both heavy with food. One had obvious grease stains at the bottom while the other was clean, though oddly distended.  
  
"Ah, look who's back," Lucifer said, now standing next to Dean. He poked at one of the bags. "Looks like he brought enough for two." Lucifer sent Cas a mock-apologetic look. "Guess you don't need to eat."  
  
Cas studied the bedspread, tugging at one of the loose threads. It was true, after all.   
  
"Hello, Dean," he said quietly. Dean stopped.  
  
"Cas, you're awake?" Dean said. He sounded surprised. "You were supposed to text me." That sounded irritated, though not directed at Cas. Castiel felt the bond slowly wake up in the back of his mind and stilled, surprised.  
  
He hadn’t been able to touch it in so long and now it was acting completely independent of his control.  
  
"I would have. He just woke up," Sam replied, getting up to help Dean with the bags. He opened the grease-stained one and groaned. "Please tell me you brought him something that's not deep fried or red meat covered in cheese? He'll want something easy to digest."  
  
"The soup and salad is for him," Dean replied, breezing past Sam with the other bag. "You're going to turn into a rabbit if you keep eating rabbit food, Samantha."  
  
Sam huffed at the nickname but made no further protest. He headed for the small table and sat down, unpacking his bag.  
  
"You brought me a meal?" Cas asked, looking up at Dean in surprise. Dean avoided his gaze and thrust the sack of food at him. The bond awoke more fully the closer Dean came; Cas could sense it, but couldn’t reach out to touch it or to soothe it back into dormancy. This close, Dean might be able to feel it too.  
  
This wasn’t like the previous times he had been close to Dean. Then, the bond had been properly walled off; there had been no tiny holes to permit even the thinnest connection.  
  
Behind Dean, Cas saw Lucifer flicker and vanish, an irritated expression on his face.  
  
"Yeah. We weren't sure what was going on with your mojo - thought you might need something," he said. Castiel looked back at Dean and took the bag, somewhat stunned. He opened the bag to stare at the contents; this wasn’t just a meal, it wasn’t anything so simple. It was tangible proof that Dean still cared enough to try and make him well again.  
  
Even if it was only because the Winchesters needed a weapon.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean cock his head as though he was trying to hear something just out of earshot. A quick glance at his face revealed a frown and instantly Castiel realized what must be happening. The bond was sending echoes of his emotions to Dean, though fortunately it wasn’t strong enough yet for a full transfer.  
  
He clamped down on his feelings and shifted away from Dean. Keeping greater distance between them might be prudent until his Grace was restored and he could more effectively block the bond.  
  
Dean shook his head as though to shake off the reverberations and dismiss them. Castiel relaxed.  
  
"Thank you," he said, striving for normalcy. His voice came out a bit stiff and formal. He glanced from his bag of food to Sam's. There was no third sack. He didn’t look up at Dean.   
"Will you be eating, too?"  
  
Dean was quiet for a moment. Cas could distantly feel some dark emotion, a bit like pain, a bit like anger, but then they disappeared.  
  
"Already did. I needed to get out for a bit," Dean replied. He rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly lost for words. "I've got to go. I have stuff I have to do."  
  
Without further ado, Dean turned and stalked back to the door. The bond faded somewhat the farther Dean moved and before he had even reached the entrance to the room, Lucifer was once more sitting on Castiel’s bed.  
  
“Sam, pack the room once you’re done. We’re not staying for dinner,” Dean said. He shut the door behind him with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. He didn’t glance back at Cas.  
  
"Seems like Dean's really not happy with you, huh?" Lucifer asked Castiel. "Maybe you would have been better off on the rack. Maybe he regrets picking you up."  
  
A motor revved outside the room, then slowly faded.  
  
"They need me," Castiel muttered, busying himself with grabbing the small salad Dean had brought for him.  
  
"What was that?" Sam asked.  
  
"Nothing important," Castiel replied. He pried open the top of his salad. It was a bit awkward with the bandages and missing fingers, but he managed eventually. Lucifer peered over his shoulder.  
  
“Hm… looks an awful lot like what Sam usually gets for lunch, doesn’t it?” he said. He shot a significant glance to Sam. “And Sammy’s eating what Dean normally does… and Dean has ‘already eaten’. Of course.”  
  
Cas found a set of plasticware in the bag and selected the fork. He opened up the small tub of Ranch dressing and poured it over the limp leaves of his meal, doing his best to ignore what Lucifer was saying. His brow creased in concentration, struggling to handle the plastic fork while compensating for his missing digits.  
  
Sam hesitated, watching Cas.  
  
"He bought breakfast for you, too," he said finally, gently. Cas looked up at that, but Sam had already directed his attention to his own meal.  
  
"And they've probably conveniently tossed it out, haven't they?" Lucifer commented. He tilted his head, a thoughtful look on his face. "Maybe they expected you to sleep for longer. Maybe they would have preferred it."  
  
Castiel took a bite of his salad but didn't taste it. He swallowed and it fell like lead all the way down.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Cas, how are you doing?" Sam asked, voice tentative and almost guilty. It sounded loud in the small library, echoing off the basement walls.  
  
The library was in the basement of a house in the Chicago suburbs, owned by a hunting duo that had worked with John a few times. They supposedly specialized in witches and though they couldn’t be here to help research due to a case in northern Kansas, they had given the boys their blessing to look through their books.  
  
Castiel wasn’t particularly surprised that a question had been asked, though the question itself was a bit unexpected. There had been little conversation all day, though the silences had been edged with tension and heavy with things unasked.  
  
"What do you mean?" Castiel asked. Lucifer sighed, leaning against one of the bookcases next to the chair Cas had taken for his own. Lucifer had spent the drive over conjuring different images to horrify Cas with, but had seemed to tire of it when he showed no reaction. With access to his Grace still cut off, there was little Cas could do to stop him.  
  
He’d kept a tight lid on his emotions since he had woken up, especially when Dean was nearby. As the days went on, he’d needed to do it less and less often; Dean had spent more and more time away from the motel rooms and had almost started avoiding Castiel except when strictly necessary.  
  
The bond’s effectiveness at banishing Lucifer had weakened considerably as the distance between himself and Dean grew, but it was better than the alternative.  
  
He stole a glance at the older Winchester, who was standing next to the bookshelves opposite Cas, as physically far away from the angel as he could get and still be in the same room. As though sensing Castiel’s gaze, Dean spoke.  
  
"When you broke Sam's gourd, he had hallucinations," Dean explained, not looking up from the book he was reading. "He wanted to know if you were seeing Lucifer."  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
"Well, are you?" There was now a doppelganger of Dean standing next to Cas, staring at him with a disappointed expression. "Because you're a liability if you are, you know that, right? Sam would have been better off in a hospital where he couldn't fuck up and get one of us killed."  
  
"I am," Castiel admitted. "Not currently-" True enough. "-but I do see him, sometimes." He paused for a moment, uncertain. "I can still be of use to you."  
  
Dean's lips thinned. Clearly, that was not the answer he had wanted to hear. He flipped a few pages in the book he held, letting out an irritated huff of breath when one of the pages crinkled.  
  
"I'm handling it. I don't need your help," Cas assured them. The Dean next to him laughed.  
  
"Oh, yeah, you're doing real well so far," he said mockingly. He crouched down and leaned in to whisper into his ear. The double's breath was cold against the shell of flesh, but Castiel didn't let himself shiver. "Lying is a sin, you know."  
  
"'Handling it'?" Sam asked doubtfully. "Cas, if you need help-"  
  
"You heard him, Sammy. He's got it covered," Dean said shortly. He shoved his book back on the shelf and took a new one down, turning his back on Sam and Cas.  
  
"Once these cuffs are removed and my Grace is restored, I'll be able to put up a wall between myself and Lucifer," Cas said. "I can manage until then on my own."  
  
"Because life on the road means you can't bring everything with you. Burdens get left on the side of the highway," Lucifer told Cas, standing back up. "Better make sure you’re never a burden, little brother, or else, sooner or later, they will leave you."  
  
Castiel looked at his book, licked one of his remaining fingers, and flipped the page.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Do you, uh... do you want to call Daphne?" Sam asked, turning around in the front seat of the car to face Cas. The angel frowned and tilted his head slightly, confused. "I mean, it wouldn't be safe to visit, but you can probably call her..."  
  
"Why would I do that?" Castiel asked. Dean stared intently at the road, eyes fixed and hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.  
  
"You care about her, right?" he said gruffly. "That's what you do when you care. You call, maybe drop by once in a while for a beer, shoot the breeze-" He cut himself off and Castiel's frown deepened. Dean's voice held more than the usual amount of irritation, but the angel had no idea what had upset the human. Judging by Sam's expression, both confused and concerned, neither did Sam.  
  
Cas wanted to reach for Dean and perhaps find out why the human was so angry, but he still couldn’t touch the bond consciously. For the past few days, Dean had been keeping his emotions locked down and Cas had hardly needed to keep a tight leash on his own feelings at all.  
  
It should have been a relief, since constantly monitoring himself for slips had been somewhat exhausting, but it had left Cas feeling more lonely than ever.  
  
"Dean..." Sam questioned softly. Dean jerked his head to the side, dismissive. Sam sighed and turned back to Cas. "She's probably frantic. You've been missing for months." Sam looked a little guilty then, a tentative, apologetic smile on his lips. "We would have offered earlier, but we kind of... forgot you were married."  
  
It felt like a lie, but Castiel let it pass. Dean’s expression had darkened again.  
  
"Oh," Cas breathed. He cleared his throat. "Daphne and I were never actually married. She thought it was less suspicious for a man and a woman to live together if they claimed to be wed. It was her way of protecting me.” The less remarkable he was, the less cause anyone would have to ask questions. The claim had been a neat cover story, though they had never done anything beyond the realms of friendship. They had separate rooms and slept in separate beds, though Castiel’s room was always referred to as ‘the guest room’. As he had had no possessions of his own, it wasn’t difficult to keep the room impersonal.  
  
Castiel fell silent, feeling a brief pang of sorrow for the woman who had helped him. It did help to know that a soul as pure as hers would most certainly have gone to Heaven, but he regretted the loss. It had been good to know someone who didn't know what he was and yet cared for him regardless.  
  
"Because Dean doesn't, right, Cassie?" Lucifer asked, casually curled up on the seat next to Cas. His knees were braced against the back of the driver's seat and were level with his head. The position looked horribly cramped, but it didn't seem to bother the archangel. "You may be one of the nicer dicks with wings, but he never called you when he was with Lisa. He only called you when he needed you.” Lucifer shrugged. “Now, you have the worth of an infant. That's why Dean's been irritated; because you’re useless."  
  
Castiel dug his nails into his palm, but they weren't long enough to pierce the meat. He again resisted the urge to reach for Dean, vowing that he could get through this on his own. He was strong enough.  
  
Still, he couldn't help thinking about what Lucifer had said. Since Sam had jumped into the Pit, all those years ago, not once had Dean or Sam called him just because they wished for his company. There had been no offers of shared beverages or attempts to fire guns into the wind. If those were the things someone did when they cared...  
  
Castiel tugged at the collar of his borrowed shirt. He still wore Dean’s clothes, most of the time. They simply didn’t have the budget or the time to get him his own, though Dean had insisted on stopping by a Wal-Mart to purchase Cas his own underclothes.  
  
"Even if she isn't your wife, she's still a friend," Dean said, breaking Castiel's train of thought. "Just... give her a call, all right? You know your home phone number?"  
  
"I do," Cas confirmed. Sam started to dig his phone out of his pocket, obviously intending for Cas to use it, but the angel continued, shaking his head in silent refusal. "But I can't call her. Crowley's men already knew where I lived as Emmanuel. When they didn't return, Crowley himself sought me out and found Daphne."  
  
He heard Sam's sharp intake of breath but continued anyway.  
  
"After finding out my location, he killed her and came for me."  
  
The car went almost perfectly silent, only the muted sound of the wind outside and the humans' breathing was audible.  
  
"Wow, Cas... I'm so sorry," Sam said. Dean remained silent, a mix of regret and inward-turning anger, but no shock on his face. Dean must have realized Daphne’s probable fate once he’d found out what had happened to Castiel.  
  
"Why?" Cas asked. "It was not your fault that Crowley killed her."  
  
"We could have done something," Sam protested. "We could have taken her with us, or warned her. Something."  
  
"No, you couldn't," Cas replied evenly. "She would have been no safer with you. Your lives are dangerous; wasn't that why you left me in the hospital?"  
  
The car fell silent again.  
  
"Cas..." Sam finally choked out, after almost a minute. Cas looked at him, puzzled by the clear distress. He hadn't meant it as an accusation, just an observation.  
  
"Of course you didn't mean to accuse them of anything, Cas. Of course you didn't," Lucifer said silkily. Cas shut his mouth and didn't speak.  
  
After a few more minutes of tense silence, Dean reached over and turned the radio on.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel rubbed at his wrists, smiling thinly as he felt his fingers and toes begin to tingle. The still-missing pieces re-grew as his Grace swelled within him once more.  
  
It was a little over a week since Dean and Sam had rescued him from Crowley. They had been fortunate; they hadn’t been attacked and though the ritual had taken some digging to find, it had been relatively simple to perform.  
  
The library they’d stopped at in the upper part of Illinois had been immensely helpful and had pointed them in the direction of the book they’d needed. Sam had finally found said book with the removal spell after calling a few contacts and checking the Campbell family library.  
  
"All juiced up again, aren't you?" Lucifer asked, arms folded across his chest. “Dean and Sam don't want to haul you around forever. Now you can start making up for letting out the Leviathans. And getting Bobby killed."  
  
The momentary euphoria Cas had felt upon being restored to himself faded and vanished, a chill taking its place. He had asked shortly after their trip to the Illinois library why Sam didn't just call Bobby to ask for assistance. Dean's grip had tightened on the steering wheel and Sam had haltingly explained the cause and circumstances of Bobby’s death.  
  
Dean drank two extra beers with dinner that night.  
  
"You know Dean blames you for that. If you hadn't let them out, little brother..." Lucifer tsked and shrugged. "But you did. I wonder how many of your precious hairless apes the Leviathans have slaughtered?"  
  
Castiel looked away from Lucifer, digging the nails of his now fully-reformed fingers into his palms. He would need to rebuild the wall between himself and the madness as soon as possible, though it would be unwise to do it in the same room as Dean. He would need to access more of their bond and there was too much risk that Dean would notice.  
  
He’d bear with Lucifer’s presence for a few minutes before excusing himself.  
  
He turned his attention towards the makeshift altar Sam had used to perform the ritual. Sam stood behind it, holding the paper with the incantation and wearing a look of cautious hope. Dean stood behind Sam, arms crossed and expression inscrutable.  
  
"Did it work?" Sam asked, moving around the altar so he could check. Cas nodded, holding up one of his hands to prove that he was once again whole. Sam grinned, but he didn’t stop coming closer. Cas stared, uncertain, but then Sam was right in front of him and wrapping his arms around the angel. His shirt still smelled like burnt herbs and soap.  
  
Castiel froze, startled. Sam pulled back hastily, one hand resting on Cas’s shoulder.  
  
"Sorry, it's just... I should have done that a long time ago," he said. He squeezed the shoulder briefly and then let go.  
  
Cas could read Sam's thought process in his eyes. Back when Sam's soul had been restored, he'd avoided embracing Castiel even though he’d had no trouble hugging his brother and Bobby.  
Castiel tentatively stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sam. Sam responded instantly, holding him so tightly that Castiel's freshly-healed ribs creaked. It was as if he was trying to make up for not hugging Cas before. When Sam pulled back, he was smiling.  
  
The hug had been blissfully warm, a sensation not unlike what Cas had sometimes experienced in Heaven with the members of his garrison. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he was truly home.  
  
"You're so cute," Lucifer said, tone somewhat nasty and shattering the lingering feeling of happiness. "See? Dean thinks so, too."  
  
Castiel looked over at Dean. The hunter had a pinched expression on his face. He was clearly struggling to appear unconcerned, but there was an almost angry gleam to his eyes.  
  
"See? He doesn't trust you around his baby brother," Lucifer said. "Sammy's the most important person to Dean and he always will be. No one else will ever come close. Not even Bobby did."  
  
Castiel knew that and, if he ever had begrudged the younger Winchester his place in Dean’s life, had long since stopped. Dean’s devotion to his family was so much a part of him, it was impossible to resent that devotion without also resenting Dean.  
  
And that was something Cas could never do.  
  
“This isn’t your home, Castiel,” Lucifer said softly. “Maybe it was, once. Back before the whole ‘swallowing Purgatory' business.”  
  
Cas tensed.  
  
“Maybe you could have had something with Dean once, but – oh!" Lucifer paused and clapped a hand to his forehead. The gesture was mockingly exaggerated. "I almost forgot about Lisa. Dean was so happy there. He got to enjoy a whole year with no demons, no ghosts... no angels." The archangel shrugged. “Guess a life with Dean was never in the cards, huh? You’re obviously not what he wants.”  
  
Cas stepped back from Sam and looked to the middle distance between the brothers, dropping his arms back to his sides.  
  
"It has been a long time since I've flown. I should stretch my wings," he said. It was at least partially true. His wings would have weakened from the months of confinement and he did need to exercise them. Dealing with Lucifer was also becoming more pressing by the minute, but he paused, waiting for some kind of confirmation that he would be welcomed back. He wanted words to substantiate what he had felt when Sam had hugged him.  
  
He needed Lucifer to be wrong.  
  
"Fine. Go," Dean said sharply, starting to clear off the altar with quick, harsh motions. "We'll call when we need some angelic assistance."  
  
He felt, rather than saw, Sam tense beside him. Cas just felt numb. Words weren’t supposed to hurt, especially not when they had been expected.  
  
“Dean,” Sam hissed, but he shut up when Dean scowled at him.  
  
"I told you they wouldn't want to haul you around forever," Lucifer said, voice almost gentle.  
  
Cas spread his wings.  
  
"I will be back," he assured the Winchesters quietly. After having killed many of the Host, surely he would no longer be welcome in Heaven. He had nowhere else to go, but he didn't have to be around if they didn't want him there. It was the least he owed them.  
  
Once in the air, he heard Lucifer's voice in his ear.  
  
"You can't outfly the truth, brother. You can’t outfly  _me_."  
  


* * *

  
  
Cas finally made the decision to return to the motel room hours later, the wall between himself and Lucifer repaired and his Grace low from hours of flying and trying to escape his thoughts. His energy had sunk to perhaps dangerously low levels, but he hadn’t expected using his wings to take so much out of him. He had gotten weak.  
  
It was already nighttime, so when he touched down, he stayed silent and invisible. Dean and Sam were both fast asleep in their respective beds and snoring quietly.  
  
Castiel debated briefly whether to stay or go, but he had nowhere else. Dean might be angry with him once he found out that Cas had watched him sleep, but what the human did not know could not hurt him. It might be considered ‘creepy’, but Cas had no nefarious intentions. He could guard the perimeter and keep watch as well; surely any ire Dean experienced would be mitigated?  
  
"Already making excuses to do something you know he'd hate you for, if he knew," Lucifer said, standing, semi-transparent, next to the angel. His voice sounded like a shout. Castiel tensed, angry, worried about disturbing Dean and Sam’s rest, but then he remembered that he was the only one who could hear Lucifer. He relaxed.  
  
'I'm protecting them,' he thought firmly, though he wasn't sure if he was arguing with Lucifer or trying to convince himself. He shut his eyes and just breathed for a moment, wishing he dared immerse himself in the bond for one night of peace.  
  
"Oh?" The voice was lighter, feminine, and accompanied by the rustling of blankets.  
  
Castiel’s eyes shot open. Lucifer had vanished from his side, but it wasn’t a relief given the sight that greeted Cas now.  
  
There was a beautiful, dark-haired woman in Dean’s bed, dressed in a rather small, white negligee that emphasized her soft curves. She was partially translucent, as Lucifer had been, and she hadn’t been there seconds ago. Castiel recognized her from the year he had spent watching over Dean from the shadows.  
  
Lisa Braeden. Castiel’s heart clenched.  
  
Lisa smiled cruelly at him and shifted closer to Dean. He didn't stir, didn't even move, so accustomed to her presence that she didn't register as a danger. Something lonely and aching rose up within Castiel at the sight.   
  
During that year, he had never set foot inside the Braeden household. He had never wanted to see this.  
  
"If you're only protecting them, then why are you jealous, Castiel?" Lisa asked, making herself comfortable at Dean's side. "I made him happy. I can give him the life he always wanted. I can give him a family." She ran a possessive hand down Dean's back. "Can you imagine two or three little Deans running around? You saw how he was with Ben. He loves kids."  
  
Memories of snowball fights, games of catch, and outdoor chores suddenly played back in Castiel’s mind. Dean’s smile had been softer that year, heavy with the weight of Sam’s loss but there had been traces of happiness when Dean spent time with Ben. Ben had been as good for Dean as Dean had been for Ben.  
  
Castiel turned away, intending to check the wards on the room and the salt lines. Dean and Sam always checked before bed, but there was no reason Cas couldn't double check. Just to be safe.  
Anything to look away from that bed.  
  
‘It’s an illusion,’ he reminded himself. That should have helped, but it wasn’t enough to know that this wasn’t real. He had to feel it, too, but his emotions were a jumbled mess.  
  
"We both know how selfish you are. You'd rather have  _this_  than let Dean be happy." This time, the voice was deeper, more gravelly, more familiar. Cas looked, unable to help himself.  
  
A perfect copy of himself, sans most of his clothing, was now where Lisa had been, curled up with Dean like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Cas wanted.  
  
He wanted to be where his double was. He wanted to lay down beside Dean every night and be there when Dean woke up in the mornings. He wanted to go hunting with Dean and fight once more at his side, a trusted and valued ally. He wanted to press his mouth to Dean's and be welcomed. He wanted to reach for the bond between them and feel Dean reaching back for him.  
  
"Everything he's sacrificed and you would ask him for more," the doppleganger said, disappointed. Cas tensed and looked towards the curtained window. His own words resounded in his head. "You would ask him to love you as he loved Lisa."  
  
"No," Cas said, then bit his lip. No one else could hear Lucifer. His voice, however, was still perfectly audible.  
  
"You're right, Castiel. 'No'," the copy said, sitting up. Once upright, the figure morphed back into Lisa. "You're not worthy of him."  
  
She vanished. Only Dean stayed behind, sleeping on his front and the blankets gathered around his waist. Cas wanted to stare, to memorize the angle of the dip at the small of Dean's back, but he turned away.  
  
Lucifer was leaning on the wall behind him. He shrugged expressively.  
  
"She has a point, brother."  
  
'She was you,' Cas thought viciously. He drew on his Grace, intending to strengthen the wall between them even if it meant that he’d spend the rest of the night doing nothing but manipulating energy, but the response to his call was feeble at best. He didn’t have any more to pour into his defenses.  
  
His eyes widened at the realization. When had he become this weak?  
  
The archangel laughed and Castiel felt the wall between them shatter.  
  
"You used up too much when you went flying. It's just you and me tonight," he said, grinning. "I have a few ideas on how to pass the time."  
  
There was a loud crack and then suddenly Castiel felt wires wrap around his neck and his arms. He looked towards the ceiling in shock, then choked as the cables coiled tighter and hauled him off of his feet.  
  
He didn't need to breathe, not like a human did, but he couldn't get enough air into his lungs to speak. He glared wordlessly at Lucifer, who morphed into Crowley as he stepped closer. The motel room melted and then was gone, replaced by the sterile white of Crowley's torture chamber.  
  
"Oh, angel," Crowley said, sharpening the knife in his hand. "You really thought you had escaped, didn't you?"  
  
This was an illusion. Dean had gotten him out. Dean and Sam had come for him.  
  
All of this was an illusion, from the smell of sweat, blood, and decay to the blindingly white lights and the wires cutting into his skin.  
  
It wasn't real. Dean had gotten him out. He was safe-  
  
"Did I?" Dean asked him, seizing him by the jaw and forcing Cas to meet his eyes. "Did I  _really_?"  
  
-wasn’t he?  
  
There was no warmth in Dean’s expression.  
  
There was no choice. The bond was thrashing at the wall keeping it from coming to Castiel’s defense, clawing at the holes, and snarling at the hallucinations. Cas gritted his teeth and tore a sizeable chunk of Grace from the wall. It dissolved and the bond came roaring out.  
  
Castiel seized it and wrapped it around himself, half-afraid and half-exultant. The world around him flickered and then was gone, the white of Crowley’s torture chamber replaced with the muted flower pattern of the motel room’s wallpaper. Cas was left alone with the bond. Its golden light curled around his mind, at once protective and blissful.  
  
Cas could feel Dean’s sleepy contentment, his rest a rare moment of peace. Cas indulged himself for a moment, sinking into the feeling and allowing it to warm him.  
  
What would it be like to enjoy this without guilt and without the knowledge that these were stolen moments?  
  
“… Cas?” That was Dean’s voice, thick with sleep, but awake enough to notice Castiel’s trespass.  
  
Castiel’s heart clenched, guilt at once overcoming his enjoyment and fear following on its heels. He withdrew from the bond abruptly, sloughing it off and holding it at arm’s length as he sped back to its cage.  
  
The bond protested, struggling in his grip, and Castiel could feel echoes of Dean’s own confusion within the golden light’s thrashing. Dean was beginning to become aware of it; Cas never should have accessed it so close to Dean. Even asleep, the hunter’s senses were formidable.  
  
He would have to lock the bond up as tightly as he could and get away as quickly as possible. If Cas was lucky, Dean would take this for a dream.  
  
Castiel shoved the bond back through the hole he had torn earlier, light spilling from within. He caught each line of light and forced it to retreat, but it was like wrestling an octopus. Tendrils of light clung to his arms, his hands, the outside of the box it lived in, and any part of his mental landscape it could grab.  
  
It wanted to be known. It was tired of living in back corners and being glorified only in secrecy.  
  
“Not yet,” Castiel said to it, knowing that ‘yet’ likely meant ‘ever’, at least in this.  
  
The golden light faded and the small roots receded unhappily. It curled up in on itself and mourned. Castiel’s heart was heavy, but, he repaired the break with his meager Grace and left only a tiny, pinprick-sized hole. He couldn’t risk more, but he couldn’t shut it out completely and leave himself without any means of defense against Lucifer.  
  
A hair-thin wisp of the bond floated out to him and wrapped around his wrist, steadying and supportive. Cas allowed his consciousness to surface again, breathing a little easier without the immediate threat of Lucifer.  
  
Dean seemed to have lapsed back into sleep. Hopefully, he would remember nothing of the bond when he woke.  
  
Castiel walked, silent and invisible, to the door and let himself out as quietly as he could. He would need to meditate somewhere not in close physical proximity to Dean, just in case he reached for the human’s mind again in a moment of weakness. He dared not fly again, not so soon and not when he had so little Grace left, but the Winchesters’ borrowed car would do.  
  
It took a bit of precious energy to convince the car to unlock, but then Castiel laid down on the backseat and shut his eyes.   
  
His mental self curled up next to the bond’s prison, half of his attention on the distant wall only partially containing the madness. The rest of his mind was equally divided between the thin string connecting him to Dean and gathering his energy.  
  
He needed to be ready for whatever the future would bring.  
  


* * *

  
  
Breakfast was quiet. They were now two where they had been three for a little over a week. Sam had even bought a few of the cinnamon-sugar twists Castiel liked in case the angel showed up, but it seemed like they’d be going uneaten today.  
  
Sam took another bite of his doughnut, surreptitiously studying Dean. The older Winchester's head was bowed and he was chewing on custard-filled doughnuts and drinking coffee like the breakfast foods had done him an injury. He was also flipping through the morning paper, looking for anything on Dick Roman or possible Leviathan activity.  
  
Sam knew it made sense; Cas was as safe and healthy as he was going to get. The Leviathans were still on the loose, getting up to God-knew-what for likely nefarious purposes, and the Winchesters might finally have a weapon that could kill them. An angel could probably smite just about anything.  
  
He immediately winced at the thought. Cas wasn't a weapon, he was  _family_ , but the angel's powers would come in handy when they fought the bigmouths again. Speaking of the angel...  
  
"Dean," Sam said. Dean looked up, scowling. He'd been in a foul mood since waking up that morning and had refused to give a reason other than ‘fucked-up dreams’ when Sam had asked. The younger Winchester was certain it had at least a little to do with the still-missing member of their group and the empty spot at the table, but had wisely refrained from saying as much.  
  
"What?" Dean asked.  
  
"Shouldn't we call Cas?" Sam asked. He nodded at the paper. "Maybe he's heard something."  
  
Even if Cas hadn't, it was clearly putting Dean on edge to have the angel out of sight. It made Sam a bit uneasy too, but Castiel was all angel'd up again and he had his memories. He could take care of himself. Hell, he could probably take better care of himself than either Dean or Sam could.  
  
"He's probably busy," Dean said, voice clipped. "Civil war in Heaven is over now, but he's probably got clean-up duty or something. We're not going to call him down for every little thing, especially when we don't have anything." He let go of the paper in disgust. "It's quiet. Dick's still on tour, but there's nothing else that screams bigmouth to me."  
  
"We could poke around the coordinates Bobby gave us, see if anything's turned up," Sam suggested. Then, since it seemed Dean wouldn’t allow himself to pray for Cas without a reason, he added, "We could see if Cas can find out anything."  
  
"If you want Cas that badly," Dean said, then his face blanched. Sam frowned at him, confused, but then Dean shook his head. When he spoke next, his voice was even tighter. "If you think Cas might have anything, you call him down." Then, in an undertone Sam wasn't sure he was meant to have heard, "You two are all buddy-buddy lately, anyway."  
  
It took the words a moment to process.  
  
"Dude, are you jealous?" Sam asked incredulously.  
  
"Jealous?" Dean asked. "What the hell gave you that idea?"  
  
"Dean, Cas and I-" Sam started to say, but Dean abruptly shoved himself away from the table, chair legs squealing loudly against the cheap tile floor.  
  
"I need more coffee," he said, grabbing his keys from the table and his coat on the way out the door. He slammed it shut behind himself, leaving Sam staring wordlessly after him. The younger Winchester heard an engine roar and then tires squeal. He sighed and turned back around, looking at his brother's half-empty mug of black coffee. It still steamed faintly.  
  
He looked towards the ceiling.  
  
"Cas," he said. "Look... if you're not busy, could you come down here? It's not urgent or anything but, uh, if you have any information on the Leviathans... we could really use your help." He waited a beat and then belatedly added, "Amen."  
  
There was a fluttering of wings and then Cas was suddenly there, in the center of the room. He looked exhausted, as if he had spent the night fighting off all the denizens of Hell by himself. It reminded Sam of the time he had collapsed after time travelling twice in a day and Dean had dubbed him ‘Mr. Comatose’. More than a little worried Cas was about to fall, Sam sprang to his feet and hurried over.  
  
"Cas, you all right?" he asked, grabbing the angel's shoulder and guiding him to sit down on Dean's bed. Cas did as he was bid, looking wearily grateful. "What happened?"  
  
"Nothing," Castiel replied, a bald-faced lie of Sam had ever heard one. The angel looked up at Sam for a moment and then glanced around the room, looking puzzled and somewhat unhappy. "Where's Dean?"  
  
"Went out to get coffee," Sam replied, half-shrugging.  
  
Castiel nodded absently, eyes lingering on the door, and then he looked up at Sam.  
  
"You said you needed my help?"  
  


* * *

  
  
When Dean got back over an hour later, he had drank a cup of over-priced coffee and driven around for a while to cool down. His temper shot right back up the moment he walked into the room. The first thing he saw was Sam and Cas sitting on the same side of the table, heads bent together as Sam showed the angel something on his laptop.  
  
Dean shut the door with a bit more force than necessary and Sam and Cas both jumped.  
  
"Glad to see you could make it down," Dean said to the angel, yanking off his coat. "Do you know anything about the Leviathans? How to take them down or anything like that?"  
  
"I know only what Sam has told me," Castiel replied. "My Father created them long before angels. The only source of information I would have is the Bible and Sam's already searched that."  
  
"You could have just said ‘no, I don’t know anything useful’. Great," Dean said, mentally slapping himself the second the words were out of his mouth. That had been a low blow. Cas hadn't deserved it. It wasn't the angel's fault that Dean had realized too late how much Cas meant to him.   
  
It also wasn't Cas's fault, no matter how much Dean would like to blame him, that he gravitated towards the younger Winchester; despite all the demon blood, Sam was still brighter and kinder than just about anyone else Dean had met. He'd be a good match for an angel.  
  
Dean just wished it wasn’t  _his_  angel.  
  
It killed Dean to admit it, but maybe Cas would be better off with Sam. There might be too much water to put a bridge over; he and Cas had both fucked up and it had taken Dean a long time to come to terms with the fact that he could forgive the angel. It was only after he’d accepted it that he’d realized how long his own list of fuck-ups was.  
  
Whatever window of opportunity he’d once had was long gone now. Cas had been subtly avoiding him since they’d gotten him out of Crowley’s torture dungeon. Maybe Cas had thought that Dean wouldn’t notice, but it was kind of difficult not to. Cas used to have no concept of personal space and had stared at Dean for minutes on end; now, it seemed like he couldn’t stand to be within five feet of the older Winchester.  
  
Dean was drawn out of his thoughts by Castiel's voice.  
  
"My apologies," he said stiffly. Sam was giving Dean one of the bitchiest bitchfaces Dean had seen in a while. Dean didn't bother returning the expression. He pulled a chair over, situating it exactly opposite from Cas, and sat down.  
  
"Can you smite these things, Cas?" he asked, trying to make his voice a bit gentler.  
  
"I can try. It will probably work," the angel replied, nodding. He looked down at the table. "Would you teach me how you deal with the Leviathans, just in case?"  
  
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Sam beat him to the punch.  
  
"Of course, Cas," Sam said. He launched into an explanation about borax and decapitation and where to find cleaning products in a pinch. Cas listened attentively.  
  
Dean watched from the other side of the table, wondering if he would be able to give them his blessing when the time came and if being their third wheel would ever not ache.  
  


* * *

  
  
Castiel sat across from Sam at the small table in the motel room, flipping through one of the texts on Leviathans. It was in old Sumerian cuneiform, something Sam had only a passing familiarity with, and so it had become Castiel’s project.  
  
Sam was researching the Leviathans on the Internet. Every so often, he’d glance at the angel and then quickly look away. Dean sat on one of the beds, cleaning their entire stock of weapons.  
  
The research was more for a backup plan in case Castiel couldn’t destroy the Leviathans with his Grace. Castiel had his doubts, but he’d kept them mainly private. He’d find some other way to be useful if he wasn’t a powerful enough weapon.  
  
He felt Sam’s eyes on him again and looked up, tilting his head in invitation for Sam to ask whatever was on his mind.  
  
"Are you all right now, Cas?" Sam asked hesitantly. Cas frowned a bit, confused. "I mean, you're not still seeing Lucifer... right? You have your Grace back."  
  
"Oh, if only it was that easy," Lucifer said, lounging in the third chair at the table. Castiel didn't bat an eye.  
  
"I am as well as can be expected," Cas answered honestly. "Having my Grace restored does help."  
  
"But everything would be fine and dandy if I'd just bond with you, wouldn't it?"  
  
Castiel turned sharply towards Dean, only to see that the older Winchester was still absorbed in his weapons and apparently oblivious to the conversation at the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucifer smirk.  
  
Sam frowned, both at the angel's answer and his sudden movement.  
  
"What are you-" Sam asked, but Castiel shook his head.  
  
"It's not important," he said. "What have you found about the Leviathans?"  
  
Sam looked like he still had questions, but he slowly nodded and shifted closer to Cas, turning the screen to face the angel.  
  
As Sam launched into an explanation involving Bible lore, angels, and the no-so-affectionately-dubbed 'chompers', Castiel could feel the weight of Dean's gaze on his back.   
  
Had Dean not passed off his moment of awareness as a dream? If Dean had realized what was going on, Castiel didn’t know why the human hadn’t confronted him yet and asked him to sever the tie.  
Perhaps he didn’t know exactly what was happening, but he was suspicious at the very least. Maybe it would be best if Castiel sealed off even the tiny golden thread he’d left free, just until he knew for certain that Dean remained safely in the dark.  
  
There was a presence behind him and he turned slightly to find a perfect copy of Dean standing at his shoulder. The real Dean was still on the bed, still watching him.  
  
"It’s only a matter of time until you slip again. I’m going to find out," Dean's doppelganger murmured, leaning over Castiel's shoulder to whisper in his ear. “And when I do… well, you already know, don’t you?”  
  


* * *

  
  
Castiel could not smite Leviathans. He learned this the hard way; namely, by attempting it and getting nearly half his arm bitten off for his trouble.  
  
"I'll be... fine, Dean," he said, cradling his arm against his chest. Blood soaked the end of his arm and the front of his T-shirt. He could feel himself becoming light-headed, but he would be all right. He hadn't been stabbed with an angel blade; surely this wouldn't kill him.  
  
"Are you so sure, brother?" Lucifer asked, sitting in the front seat. "After all, your power didn't work on them. Maybe Leviathan teeth can kill angels too." He tilted his head, a thoughtful look on his face. "After all, you're not healing, are you?"  
  
Castiel groaned as the car hit a bump in the road and his battered body bounced. Dean tightened his grip around the angel's shoulders, trying to keep him steady.  
  
"Watch it, Sammy," Dean snapped. Dean was injured too, bleeding from multiple superficial wounds, but he hadn't let Cas heal him. He had yanked off his belt and used it as a tourniquet to try and keep more blood from pouring out of the end of Castiel's arm.  
  
Dean's hand tightened its grip on Castiel's shoulder. The bond was rejoicing at the contact even as it seethed at the angel’s injuries. Golden light swarmed Castiel’s battered defenses, begging to be released as though it could do anything but show Dean just how badly Cas was injured and just how horribly Cas had broken his trust. Again.  
  
"I'm trying, Dean," Sam snapped back, voice clearly worried. "How's Cas?"  
  
"Not doing so well, actually," Lucifer said cheerfully.  
  
"Alive," Dean said. He looked down at Cas, shaking him slightly. "Still with me?"  
  
He sounded worried, Cas noted. Felt worried, too. Dean was shaking, waves of concern and righteous fury and fear pouring off of him.  
  
If nothing else, at least he was probably too distracted by his own emotions to notice any feedback he was receiving from Castiel. Thank Father for small favors.  
  
Though, at this point, Castiel doubted it mattered whether or not Dean found out. He felt very weak, not only in body but also in Grace. It was as if parts of his angel self were being leeched away with his vessel’s lifeblood.  
  
"Cas, you gotta answer me. Cas?" More fear, more worry.  
  
"I'm sorry, Dean..." Castiel said, black swimming across his vision. He felt like his head was spinning.  
  
"Don't you fucking dare. You can't-" Terror, though one would never know it to hear Dean’s voice. The anger, however, was easy enough to read.  
  
"Oh, I really think he can," Lucifer said, drowning out Dean's voice. "Little Cassie is dying without ever having fixed the mess he made."  
  
Castiel slid into darkness, feeling himself go completely limp in Dean's hold.  
  
There were worse ways to die. Castiel doubted he even deserved this peace, but he sent a quick prayer of thanks to his Father for granting it.  
  
"Cas? Cas!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with the attempted rape scene.

When Cas woke, it was night. He was no longer in the car, but a rather dingy motel room, the usual standard for a Winchester.  
  
Dean was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair next to his bed, eyes closed and breathing evenly. Sam was in the other bed in the motel room and snoring softly.  
  
Cas slowly sat up, realized he was using both hands to do so, and looked at what had previously been a bleeding stump. His arm had healed while he had been unconscious and though he felt the drain the healing had put on his Grace, he was amazed to have recovered at all.  
  
He had been certain that the darkness swallowing him had been death, not unconsciousness. There must have been something in the Leviathans’ saliva that inhibited his healing, though he hadn’t realized it with the injury fresh and bleeding.  
  
He flexed his recently remade fingers. The skin was tight and new and would be tender and weak for a while. His shirt had been removed, probably because he had bled all over it.  
  
"So, you're alive," Lucifer said, sitting on the end of Castiel's bed. "You're useless, though. You can't smite the Leviathans and now Dean and Sam know it, too."  
  
Castiel flexed his hand again, reaching quickly for what was left of Grace after the healing. He found a nearly empty well and shivered, recalling the last time he had been so weak.  
  
Last time, he had gone to the bond and used it to ground himself in reality. Dean had almost discovered the secret and even now, he was still suspicious. He couldn’t afford to rouse the human’s suspicions any further and Dean could be no more asleep now than he had been then.  
  
Whatever torture Lucifer had devised, Cas would need to bear with it. This deception could not come out directly on the heels of Sam and Dean finding out that he could not be their ace in the hole against the chompers.  
  
He stared steadily at Lucifer, determined not to flinch. The archangel smirked and turned more fully towards Castiel; then it was Dean sitting where Lucifer had been seconds ago.  
  
"Just out of curiosity, did you really think I didn’t know about your sneaking around?" the doppelganger asked, face set in angry lines. "You think I don't know that you hitch rides in the back of my car when you're not invited? Dude, I put up with it when I thought you could help us, but now..." He shrugged, exasperated. "What good are you?"  
  
In the two weeks since his Grace had been restored, Castiel had taken to following Sam and Dean, invisible to their eyes. It was painfully reminiscent of his actions during the time of his deal with Crowley and the similarity was not lost on Cas; he simply had nowhere else to go. He dared not fly too much and deplete his Grace in case he needed it, and he dared not return to Heaven lest his remaining brothers and sisters chase him away. His wings might be torn from him just for the audacity of showing his face after declaring himself God.  
  
They likely all believed him dead and that was for the best, for now. He was in no condition to make amends for his wrongs.  
  
He would follow them from car to car, though he rarely followed them into stores or diners; the chance that someone would stumble into him was too great. He would only appear if one of them prayed for him to show, then leave once whatever task they asked of him had been filled.  
  
He would sometimes leave to stretch his wings, but he was never gone for long. Lucifer mocked him mercilessly and though Castiel was wary of using the bond again, even close proximity to his family, Dean especially, helped control the hallucinations somewhat.  
  
"Cas, I'm talking to you."  
  
Cas tensed, startled. Dean's voice was much closer than before and now there was a weight over his thighs, pinning him. He hadn’t even felt the doppelganger move.  
  
"I let you stay with us because I thought you were going to help. I didn't think you'd still be dead weight even after you got your powers back," the double said, glaring. He shoved at Castiel's shoulders, forcing him down onto the mattress. Cas resisted, but Dean was somehow stronger than he.  
  
Cas felt a stab of fear and one of want and he hated himself for both; this was an illusion, not the real Dean. His Dean and this Dean were nothing alike.  
  
"You so sure about that?" Dean asked. "Oh, I'm real all right. And I want you out. You fucking ended the world, man. We can't stop the Leviathans and they're going to destroy everything."  
  
"Dean, I-" Made a mistake. Hadn't known. Would give anything to fix it.  
  
"Shut the hell up," Dean hissed. He leaned closer and Castiel's eyes widened, pupils dilating.  
  
This wasn't real, he reminded himself. This wasn't his Dean. He owed the hallucinations no explanation. But it looked like Dean, smelled like him, and felt like him; Lucifer had gotten better at fooling him and that did not bode well.  
  
"I'm sick of you watching me," Dean growled in his face. "All the time, even when I can't see you, you're watching me. And I know what you're thinking and it makes me  _sick_."  
  
"I don't," Cas denied. This was a new tactic, not one Lucifer had tried before even though he had no problems mocking Castiel’s feelings for Dean.  
  
Why this torture, why tonight? Dean was sleeping mere feet away, though at some point Cas had become unable to see him. The world had narrowed and he couldn’t turn his head. The mattress and his pillow had become as sticky as ant-traps and he was an insect.  
  
He shut his eyes and dug deeper inside himself, searching for any shards of Grace he might have missed. He had to end this, but going to the bond was not an option. Dean was too close and this time, he might not shrug it off as a dream.  
  
"You do," Dean muttered. He slid a hand over Castiel's bare chest, nails scraping the skin. "You want me. If I give you what you want, just this once, will you stop?" He laughed coldly. "No, you'd just come back for more, wouldn't you? You’d never leave me in peace after getting a taste…"  
  
Castiel tried to lift his arms to push the copy away, but his arms were too heavy to move. He was suffocating under some immense weight and he couldn’t even shift.  
  
"Lucifer," Cas said, voice tight and low and as commanding as he could make it. He kept trying to lift his arms or his legs, to move any muscle besides his tongue, but all his body did was tremble with the effort no matter what he did. The weight above him grew heavier, cutting off all sensation beneath his elbow and knees. “This will not work.”  
  
"Lucifer?" Dean repeated. "You're a kinky slut, aren't you? You imagine Satan doing this to you?" Dean bit the side of Castiel's neck harshly and ran his hand over the front of the angel’s pants.  
  
Cas fought harder against the weight pinning him down and the glue beneath him keeping him in place, but it was as if all his thrashing just made things more difficult. There was the weight of Mt. Everest crushing him and quick-drying cement beneath him.  
  
The doppelganger didn’t even seem to notice his struggles.  
  
"Does it matter whose cock it is, or do you just care whether or not you get fucked?"  
  
"Get off of me," Castiel spat. "I don't want-"  
  
"Oh, so it's just mine then?" Dean said, smiling insincerely. "Then why don't I just give it to you and then you can fuck off to Heaven?" He tilted his head and considered for a second. "Your angel buddies would probably toss you right back out, wouldn't they? And you'd deserve it."  
  
"No," Cas rasped. His desires were nothing so base as this. He didn't want to be just another person sharing Dean's bed, one in a long line. He wanted so much more than that; he wanted to be Dean's partner, his equal, not just another hole to be fucked.  
  
"You honestly think you deserve that?" Dean grabbed his hair and yanked it painfully, hauling Castiel partially off the mattress. The angel felt his body rise easily, though his wrists stayed as though anchored to the bed. He twisted in the hold, but couldn’t break free.  
  
"You think you even deserve this, after all the shit you pulled?" the double hissed.  
  
"You know nothing of what I want," Castiel said. Dean smirked.  
  
"Oh, I think I do. And I'm going to give it to you," he said. "Be grateful, because honestly? You're not even good enough for one night."  
  
He let go of Castiel. The angel felt weight slam back into him and he crashed back onto the pillows, once more pinned in place. Dean followed more sedately, leaning forward to catch Castiel's lips with his own.  
  
Seconds before contact, close enough to feel the doppelganger’s chilly breaths, Cas felt a hand grab his shoulder. The touch was warm and familiar. Real.  
  
The hand shook him roughly and Cas felt his back detach from the mattress. Another shake, and the weight keeping him down vanished.  
  
Cas gasped and blinked, the leering face in front of his eyes flickering and disappearing before being replaced by one with a worried expression. Still the same face, the same features, but this one was no copy.  
  
"Cas, you with me?" Dean asked, quiet but intense. The question sounded old, like it had been repeated several times before finally reaching Castiel's ears, but no less frantic for it. "Cas?"  
  
"I'm fine, Dean," Cas replied, voice soft so he wouldn't wake Sam. He sat up and gently removed the human’s hand from his shoulder, not meeting Dean’s gaze. The older Winchester stilled, then slowly dropped back into his chair, rubbing at his tired eyes.  
  
"I woke up and you were zoned out," he said, shoulders tense. "Like you were watching something only you could see."  
  
Castiel kept silent. He didn't want to lie to Dean, but he couldn't tell him what he had seen or why the hallucination had affected him as it did. Dean waited for a beat, but then when it became clear that Cas wouldn't answer, he sighed and spoke.  
  
"You're better now, right?" he asked. The question was almost hesitant, like Dean wanted to demand reassurance but wasn't sure he could.  
  
At least this was something Cas could answer. He nodded and lifted his arm as though presenting the hand for inspection.  
  
"My Grace healed me while I slept. In a few days, it will be like I never lost the hand," he explained.  
  
"That's not-" Dean started, then he shook his head. "Never mind. Forget it."  
  
"He wants to know how soon you'll be able to fight," Lucifer whispered to Castiel, suddenly sitting next to the angel on the bed. "Since you can't smite the Leviathans, maybe he can use you as a shield for himself and his brother. After all," Lucifer smiled coldly. "What are a few lost limbs to you? It might be painful when you're conscious, but you can regrow them."  
  
Castiel fought the urge to move away from Lucifer, not wanting to give the archangel the satisfaction of having unnerved him. He lowered his arm again.  
  
"I'm sorry, Dean," he said. Dean smiled thinly and without humor.  
  
"For getting your arm chomped off?" he asked, voice brittle. "Nearly bleeding to death in the backseat of my car?"  
  
"In his arms, which you enjoyed more than you should have," Lucifer told him. "And now they'll need to find a new car."  
  
"Everything," Castiel replied, ignoring the Devil and shutting his eyes. "I can't redeem myself." That stung the most. His goal since regaining his memories had been to gain Dean's forgiveness and to be allowed to stay.  
  
How was he to do it if he couldn’t fix the problem he had created? Could he still consider himself ‘family’ if he was no longer useful?  
  
"What do you mean, you 'can't'?" Dean asked. He sounded more confused and surprised than angry.  
  
"The meaning probably hasn't sunk in quite yet. He's a little slow," Lucifer said.  
  
"I can't smite the Leviathans," Cas explained. He paused for a moment. "I can't be your weapon, Dean."  
  
Dean looked like someone had sucker-punched him. All Cas could hear were Sam’s deep, even breaths and the rush of blood in his own head. The near-silence lasted several seconds before Dean finally found his tongue again.  
  
"Is that what you think? That I want a  _weapon_?" Dean hissed. "Damnit, Cas, that's not-" He cut himself off abruptly and took a deep breath. Castiel looked at him, honestly confused.  
  
"Then why am I here?" he asked. Dean seemed to flinch. Castiel frowned. The question hadn't been that difficult.  
  
"That's a good question, brother. Why are you still here?" Lucifer asked knowingly. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas could see Lucifer tapping his chin in thought. "What do you think Dean would do if you told him why you stayed? Why you kept coming back?"  
  
Castiel felt chilled, imagining Dean’s likely reaction. Even if he didn’t react with disgust, the distance between them would grow.  
  
“What if you told him about the bond?” Lucifer continued.  
  
"I'm of little use as a guardian if I can't defeat-" Cas started to say, struggling to ignore Lucifer. There were no positive answers to his questions.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, wait. 'Guardian'?" Dean echoed, voice flat.  
  
"Am I wrong?" Cas asked. Dean was silent for almost a minute, lips in a thin line.  
  
"We don't need you to protect us," he finally said. "That's not what we need you for. You're family, Cas. We protect  _each other_  because that's what families do." His eyes were filled with conviction and pleaded with Cas to listen.  
  
He had worn the same look when telling Castiel not to open Purgatory.  
  
“Listen to Dean. Obey Dean,” Lucifer said, rolling his eyes. “And isn't it convenient how the word ‘family’ always comes out when Dean needs it?" Lucifer said, laughing. "You're not family, Cassie. You're the family  _pet_."  
  
Castiel tried to ignore the archangel. He tried not to think about how he had asked Dean for help and Dean had shut him down.  
  
"Well-trained too, aren't you?" Lucifer commented. "Guess the stick really is more effective than the carrot."  
  
"'We were family once'," he said softly, quietly emphasizing the past tense. Dean scowled, confused, but then comprehension dawned as he recognized the quote. His face shut down, but Cas could see fury burning in his eyes. He shoved his chair back and stood up, shoulders so tense they were shaking. He headed for the door.  
  
"Dean-" Cas began. Dean held up a hand to silence him.   
  
The human’s anger was so strong, Castiel could feel it even with the bond partially closed off. He drew away from Dean and quieted, waiting for Dean to speak.  
  
"Good boy," Lucifer said.  
  
"If you don't consider us family anymore, then fine," Dean said lowly, each word tense with the desire to shout. "But we're not your charges, the little humans you think you need to protect because we're weak. We're not."  
  
Castiel opened his mouth to contradict Dean. Of course he knew that the Winchesters weren't weak. That wasn't why he protected them. Dean cut him off.  
  
"Family is still family, even when someone fucks up. Maybe especially when someone fucks up," he said. It sounded like an oft-repeated phrase. He rubbed a hand over his face. "Just... God damn it."  
  
Castiel stomach churned, a mixture of nerves and hope.  
  
"Dean," he said, intending to follow it up with a question, but then the blankets on the second bed in the room rustled. Sam pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes and yawning hugely.  
  
"What's happening?" he asked, speech heavily slurred by sleep.  
  
"Nothing, Sammy. Go back to bed," Dean said, voice less harsh now that he was speaking to his brother. Sam glanced over to Cas and saw the angel sitting up. He grinned and relaxed, releasing tension Castiel hadn't noticed until it was gone.  
  
"You're awake. Good, that's good," he said. "Feeling all right?"  
  
"Yes, Sam, I'm fine," Cas replied, not sure if he was relieved or upset at the interruption.  
  
"Good,” Sam said. He glanced back at Dean, looking a bit more awake now. "Sure nothing's going on?"  
  
"Positive," Dean growled. He spun towards the door and seized his jacket from the hooks next to the exit. "I need a drink."  
  
"It's the middle of the night!" Sam objected, throwing the blankets off and making as if to stand up. Dean waved him off.  
  
"It ain't last call yet. Stay here and get your beauty rest, Samantha." He slammed the door shut on his way out.  
  
"What the hell is his problem..." Sam muttered. He yawned again and blinked tiredly. He glanced over at Castiel. "I'm exhausted, so I'm going back to sleep. You'll wake me if you need anything, right?"  
  
The question didn't sound like just a courtesy. Sam sounded like he meant it. Slowly, Cas nodded. Sam smiled and laid back down, pulling the blankets over himself.  
  
"Glad you're OK," he said sleepily, shutting his eyes. He was asleep again in less than a minute.  
Castiel watched the door for several minutes, but Dean did not reappear.  
  
"I told you he didn't want you here," Lucifer reminded him softly.  
  


* * *

  
  
Dean drove towards the nearest bar, hands in a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Anger burned low in his body, a flame only copious amounts of alcohol could douse.  
  
It was stupid to be pissed off at Castiel. The angel had only repeated words Dean had told him, a sentence Dean had regretted before it even left his mouth. A split second before he spoke, he had remembered how Castiel had come to him, citing family and asking for help.  
  
And Dean had said 'no'.  
  
Castiel's later confirmation that he had no family had been just desserts, he knew that. Somewhere along the way, between losing Castiel, finding him again, leaving him behind, and getting him back, he'd forgotten about that whole exchange. He'd forgotten that he and Cas were no longer family and he'd cut the tie himself with a too-quick, angered reaction. Granted, he'd been feeling betrayed at the time and so he'd lashed out. He’d done the same thing with Sam.  
  
Except that Cas wasn't Sam. Cas took everything seriously and he didn't have anything to fall back on. Then he had died before they could move past it.  
  
Hearing the words tonight had been like a slap in the face. His past had come back to haunt him, and what did he do? Lash out. Again.  
  
He wasn't willing to examine whether or not he had lashed out because he still felt betrayed. This time, it had nothing to do with Leviathans and everything to do with how cozy Cas and Sam had been getting lately.  
  
He pulled into a parking space in the far corner of the lot and yanked the keys out of the ignition. He didn't get out of the car, but slumped in the driver's seat.  
  
He should be happy for his brother. He should be happy for Cas too, but every time he came into the motel room to see them bent over some research or having some geeky discussion about the bigmouths, he seethed.  
  
Used to be that Dean was the one with the ‘profound bond’, whatever the hell that meant. Used to be that he and Cas had had something, and it wasn’t just a ‘Righteous Man and the angel that had yanked him from the Pit’ something. It had gone beyond that and Dean had been worth something to Cas, worth more than just the role he played in the Apocalypse.  
  
Story of Dean Winchester’s life. The second he let himself care about someone or something, he lost it. He had never been able to keep anything; not Sammy, not his dad, not his mom, not Cassie or Lisa and Ben or Bobby.  
  
And now, not even Cas.  
  
The year he’d spent with Lisa and Ben had given him some of the best memories of his life. There had been a kind of contentment he’d found with Lisa; it wasn’t passionate, but it was protective and maybe he could have settled into that life. He could have smoothed his rough edges until he just about fit into the neighborhood, though he’d never match exactly.  
  
That year, however, was also the longest he’d gone without seeing Cas since he’d met the angel. He’d missed Cas terribly, when he allowed himself to dwell on it.  
  
He had rarely let himself.  
  
The handprint had been gone and Dean still refused to think about how drunk he got the night he had realized what it being gone meant. It was too much like a 'goodbye', one he hadn't heard until it was too late to ask Cas to stay.  
  
He couldn’t even resent the person taking Cas away. Dean simply couldn’t resent the little brother he treasured more than his own soul. Sam had been that much quicker to forgive Cas, so maybe he deserved to have him if Cas so chose. That didn’t mean Dean had to like it.  
  
He'd been happy to see Sam and Cas forming their tentative friendship after everything that had happened, but it was like Sam had used the friendship as a springboard and gone full speed ahead to a level deeper than friendship and different from brotherhood. Part of Dean wondered if he shouldn't have tried to keep them apart.  
  
He instantly hated himself for the thought. He wasn’t happy with anyone these days, it seemed; he couldn’t resent Sam, but he could sure as hell be angry that his little brother was taking the one thing Dean hadn’t realized he wanted. He couldn’t hate Cas, but he was simultaneously furious and understanding that Castiel’s preferences had shifted when he wasn’t watching.   
  
More than that, though, he was furious that Cas had nearly died on him today.  
  
Above all, he was angry with himself for every mistake he had made since the first averted Apocalypse.  
  
It was little consolation that losing Cas to Sammy wasn't really losing him. Cas would be dangling just out of reach, more forbidden than the apple on the Tree of Knowledge. It was better than Cas dying, at least.  
  
Dean breathed in, inhaling the scents of blood and gunpowder that permeated any car the Winchesters used for any length of time. The blood scent was stronger and all of it was Castiel's. The Leviathans had some kind of weird mojo going on with their saliva, something that needed to be washed away before Cas's powers had kicked in.  
  
Cas had been so weak and had hung limply in Dean's arms when the older Winchester had carried him into the motel room. His skin had been an unearthly pale, a color Dean had only seen on corpses.  
  
He'd spent the entire car ride and the few minutes Sam had needed to clean out the injury with holy oil and then holy water terrified that Castiel's Grace would ignite and burn the shadows of his wings permanently onto the mattress and the floor and walls of the motel room. Dean had no idea how Sam knew that the holy liquids would work, but Sam had babbled something about research he'd done during the Apocalypse and barked at Dean to get him some clean rags. There had been just enough holy oil to cover the stump of Cas's arm.  
  
It had felt like hours later, but the bleeding had stopped and the arm had grown back. Color had started to return to Castiel's cheeks, even though he stayed unconscious. Dean had pulled up a chair and made some excuse about keeping watch for demons or Leviathans. Sam had squeezed his shoulder and reassured him that Cas would be OK.  
  
Then Cas had woken up and Dean had screwed everything up. Again.  
  
He got out of the car and headed into the bar.  
  


* * *

  
  
Castiel sat, invisible, in the back of the new car Sam and Dean had just stolen. The brothers had stopped at the edge of town to fill up the black Jetta's engine and grab some food from the attached convenience store. Sam had muttered something about the car being too conspicuous, but Dean had refused to drive a station wagon. As that had been the only other option, Sam had more or less gracefully conceded.  
  
They'd left their old, now-bloodstained car at the bottom of a ditch next to a little-used country road, more than half-hidden by the trees bordering the packed dirt. It would probably be a while until anyone found it and they would be long gone by then.  
  
Things had been tense since Dean had walked out the previous night and come home this morning smelling like he hadn't so much drunk alcohol as bathed in it. Still, he'd brought doughnuts for all three of them and coffee for himself and Sam. After breakfast, there had been a tense discussion of plans.  
  
Sam and Dean would drive north along the interstate and text Cas when they had a motel for the night. Cas hadn’t been invited to accompany them, so he had said his goodbyes.  
  
Then he had taken wing and landed in the backseat of their car, invisible.  
  
"He's not going to be happy when he realizes that you've been spying on him again," Lucifer said, nodding towards Dean. The older Winchester was standing next to the car, waiting for the engine to fill. The archangel smiled nastily at Castiel. "Do you know who spies on people, Cas? Spies."  
  
Castiel stared at Dean, pulling on some of his Grace to block out Lucifer. It had become steadily more and more difficult to maintain the thin wall between himself and the archangel, especially as Cas was trying to keep away from the bond as much as possible.  
  
Dean had been distant with him at breakfast, most likely the result of their talk last night. Their discussion had stirred up a lot of unpleasant memories for Castiel as well, so he wasn’t particularly surprised. He simply hadn’t enjoyed the distance, even as he recognized the necessity,  
  
Dean was suddenly gone from outside the car and he was now sitting in the driver's seat, half twisted so he could scowl directly at Castiel. The angel's eyes widened, startled. Dean should not be able to see him.  
  
"Dean?" he asked. Had he been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed Dean move?  
  
"What the hell are you doing here, Cas?" Dean demanded. "Don't you have other things you should be doing, you feathery son of a bitch?"  
  
Cas opened his mouth to explain, but the words caught on all the impossibilities of the situation. This couldn’t be Dean, because Dean couldn’t see him. Cas hadn’t heard the car door open and no matter how preoccupied he was, surely he would have heard that.  
  
He felt a moment’s impulse to touch the bond, just gently, enough to confirm that this was not truly Dean and no more, but he squelched it. There had been too many close calls already.  
  
“You think I don’t already know?” Dean asked, lifting an eyebrow. Castiel sighed.  
  
Of course. Hallucination.  
  
The doppelganger smirked.  
  
"You’re getting better." The image flickered and suddenly it was Lucifer again. "Perhaps I am not Dean, but you could practice confessing your sins to me. Maybe you'll eventually find a method that won't get you disowned again. Poor little Cassie, alone and friendless with only me for company." He shook his head sadly.  
  
"I have nothing to say to you," Castiel said, closing his eyes.  
  
"Oh?" Dean's voice again. "I think you do. Why don't you tell me how you've been stalking me since we picked you up from Crowley's? Or the direct line you've had to my head since Day One? Were you ever going to mention those?"  
  
Cas tensed but did not otherwise react.   
  
"Get out. Get the hell out and stay away. You've been lying to me all this time and I... I just can't trust you." Dean’s voice actually sounded hurt and betrayed; that was a new trick.  
  
Cas opened his eyes, Dean's voice pulling at his heartstrings even though he knew that this wasn't real. Something in him was programmed to react to that tone of Dean’s voice.  
  
"De-" he said, but then a plastic bag with groceries was shoved against his chest. He looked down, surprised.  
  
The innocent-looking plastic bag had been dropped onto his lap, various snack food items visible through the thin plastic. He looked up and saw Sam staring at the bag in shock; to him, it must look like it was floating in midair a few inches above the backseat.  
  
"Dean!" Sam called out in warning, his hunter training kicking in. He turned and tore open the glove compartment as Dean went for the trunk and the heavy-duty weapons. Like every half-decent hunter, the brothers kept a baggie of salt and a flask of holy water in the front of their car and Sam had both in hand by the time Castiel's brain caught up to what was happening. He allowed himself to become visible once more, still holding the plastic bag that had revealed him. Sam froze, salt and holy water at the ready.  
  
"What is it, Sam?" Dean asked, half-buried in the trunk. Sam sighed and visibly relaxed, lowering the vial and the baggie.  
  
"False alarm, Dean. It's Cas," he replied. He sealed up the salt and the holy water and put them back in place while Dean put down the sawed-off he had picked up and closed the trunk with a muttered curse.  
  
"Dude, what did I tell you about sneaking up on people?" Dean said, walking back to the pump and removing the gas nozzle from the Jetta, tank now full.  
  
"My apologies," Cas said, shifting the bag off of his lap and onto the seat next to him. Lucifer dug through it, making noises of approval.  
  
"Ah, licorice!" he said, pulling the candy out of the bag and yanking it open. "They do have excellent taste."  
  
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Sam asked, curious. "I mean, not that we're not glad to have you here, but..." He trailed off expectantly.  
  
"But why are you bothering them when you should be elsewhere?" Lucifer said cheerfully around a mouthful of candy. "You could be getting torn to pieces by the Leviathans right now. Or finding some text that Sammy  _hasn't_  looked through for ideas on how to stop them. You might find something in the Royal Library of Alexandria."  
  
"Yeah, shouldn't you be up in Heaven or something?" Dean asked, walking around the front of the car to the driver's seat. He got in and slammed the door, not looking at Castiel.  
  
"Subtle hint, little brother, subtle hint," Lucifer said, winking. "He probably knows what would happen if you went up there after what you've done."  
  
"I am no longer welcome in Heaven," Cas said flatly. Both Winchesters stared at him in shock.  
  
"Since when?" Sam asked, the first to recover his tongue.  
  
"Since I called myself God," Cas replied. The Winchesters seemed even more flabbergasted at that. Sam's mouth dropped open and Dean's eyes widened. The car was silent for several seconds. Only Cas heard Satan smacking his lips as he shoved another piece of licorice into his mouth.  
  
"Then what have you been flying off to do every day?" Dean asked, eyes narrowing as he spoke. "Just couldn't stand our company, is that it?"  
  
"Dean," Sam chastised, shooting a quick glare at his brother. Dean scowled back and then turned to shove the keys into the ignition.  
  
"Aw, now you've hurt his feelings," Lucifer said, dropping the remaining licorice back into the shopping bag and digging for more candy. Castiel hesitated before answering, not sure if his response would do more harm than good. Now that he’d been caught, it was probably best to come clean.  
  
"I haven't actually been flying off," he said slowly. "Much of the time, I follow you until you call for me in the evenings."  
  
He waited while the brothers processed that.  
  
"Invisibly," Dean said at last, tone disapproving. Castiel nodded. Lucifer winced.  
  
"Oh, bad choice, Cassie," he said. "He doesn't sound too happy."  
  
"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam asked gently. "We thought you had important things to do in Heaven. If you wanted to stay, you didn't need to sneak around. We would have been happy to take you with us."  
  
Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel and he scowled out through the front window.  
  
"Dean doesn't look too happy, either," Lucifer said, chewing on a chocolate bar. "Maybe he doesn't want you around."  
  
Castiel glanced down at his hands.  
  
"Yeah, you should've said something, Cas," Dean said. He cleared his throat, still looking through the window rather than at either of the other two occupants of the car. "You're family."  
  
Waves of relief poured through Cas and he relaxed, looking up and meeting Sam's smile. Dean's expression seemed darker than it had a moment ago, dampening Castiel's own happiness, but the hunter didn't take his words back.  
  
"Thank you," Cas said. He paused for a moment, testing the words on his tongue. "May I stay?"  
  
"Of course, Cas," Sam said. He nodded to the bag resting on the seat next to Cas. "Pass me the Swedish Fish?"  
  
"And pass the licorice up here," Dean added. He glanced briefly back at Cas, but didn't smile. Cas dug through the shopping bag and came out with two bags of unopened, brightly colored candies. He handed both to Sam and watched the younger Winchester tear them open before passing the licorice to Dean.  
  
He smiled slightly, relaxing in the backseat. Even though it wasn't the Impala, he was with the Winchesters and it felt like home.  
  
"Oh, he called you 'family'," Lucifer said, sounding impressed. "And aren't your feelings for him just so fraternal? What do you think he's going to do once he finds out?"  
Castiel's smile died.  
  


* * *

  
  
Castiel materialized in the room, lightly gripping the hair-thin thread of golden light he had followed to Dean. He dared not hold it more tightly.  
  
The older Winchester had stormed out of the motel room over an hour ago, snarling something about needing a drink. Again. Sam had been just as confused as Cas; they had been sitting quietly in the room for hours, going over some of the newer texts Castiel had retrieved at Sam’s request. Dean had been on one of the beds, channel-surfing, and Cas and Sam had been at the table.  
  
Castiel had been aware of a strange tension radiating from Dean all night, but he hadn’t expected the explosion it had culminated in. Dean had practically run out the door after Cas had handed Sam one of the books.  
  
Sam had assured Cas that Dean would be probably be back soon, but an hour had passed and there had been no sign of him. Sam had started to get edgy, stealing frequent glances at the door, and to be honest Castiel wasn’t wholly comfortable with Dean’s absence, either. The older Winchester had a nock for getting into trouble, and so Cas had offered to find Dean and bring him back.  
  
Sam had waved him off, saying he’d call Dean and make sure everything was all right. That plan had one flaw; Dean had left his phone on the charger in the room. Sam had called and seconds later, angel and hunter had both heard Dean’s ringtone.  
  
When Cas had offered to locate Dean a second time, Sam had gratefully accepted and told him to check the nearest bars. Castiel had a far quicker and more effective means of finding Dean, but Sam didn’t need to know that.  
  
The bond had led him directly to Dean, but upon landing, Cas suddenly wished he had left well enough alone.  
  
He hadn't ended up in a bar, as both he and Sam had assumed. He was in the bedroom of a small apartment in a squat building in town. Cas was grateful that he had thought to materialize invisibly, even though he doubted that the pair on the bed would have noticed him regardless.  
  
Dean was on top of a dark-haired woman, kissing down her neck and pressing his fingers between her legs as she bucked into his touch. They were both completely naked and their clothes were strewn about the room as though they had been hastily discarded.  
  
Cas couldn't look away.  
  
He had rebuilt Dean's body from the decaying mess it had once been, crafted every tendon and ligament, knitted his muscles back together and stretched new skin over his creation. He had painted every freckle and sculpted every indentation, smoothed out every plane; he knew the body before him like no one else ever had or ever would, but he had never admired it in quite the same way he was doing now. Dean's body was and would always be a work of art to Castiel, but now the art was in the way he moved, the way the muscles shifted under the skin and the sounds he drew from his partner with a combination of his hands and mouth. Now the art wasn't an ornate pillar, functional but beautiful and untouchable; it begged to be caressed. Castiel wanted to draw new, impermanent blemishes over the skin and map out the new scars Dean had collected since he had been remade. He wanted his body to be the instrument Dean played and to play Dean in turn.  
  
He wanted Dean to know him, inside and out, as well as Cas knew him.  
  
“You desire him, brother,” Lucifer whispered in his ear. “You want to be on that bed with him, enjoying his attentions.”  
  
Castiel drew in a sharp breath. He swallowed heavily and looked away, striving for control.  
  
“It’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?” Lucifer said. Castiel tried to ignore him, but he had no more success blocking out the archangel’s voice than he had blocking out the sounds Dean was making. He could feel his body responding to the soft moans and he tensed, curling his hands into fist and digging his nails into his palms.  
  
“You’re a liar, Cassie. You said your feelings were nothing ‘so base as this’, but lust is a greater part of it than you want to admit.”  
  
The woman with Dean let out a loud moan and Castiel heard bed springs squeak.  
  
“You like that, sweetheart?” Dean asked, voice low and husky with more than a hint of amusement.  
Instinct urged Cas to reach out and draw on the bond to heighten his pleasure. He wanted that connection with Dean, but he schooled himself. His nails dug deeper into his palms, but the slight pain did nothing to deter the desire that was quickly overwhelming him.  
  
“You should be watching, Castiel,” Lucifer said. “This is the closest you will ever get to fucking him.”  
  
There was a loud, feminine cry of pleasure, and Cas couldn’t help himself. He looked.  
  
The women tugged on Dean’s hair, pulling him up from between her legs to her lips so their mouths could meet in a messy kiss. Her nails scratched down Dean’s back, ruining the perfection of his skin, and her legs wrapped around his waist. She arched into him, filthy words spilling from her mouth between kisses.  
  
“He was never yours, Cassie,” Lucifer said softly, mock-compassion in his voice. “He never will be. The random women he seduces in bars are allowed more freedoms with him that you will ever have.”  
  
Dean started to move, his face buried in the woman's neck as he worshipped the skin there.  
  
Castiel closed his eyes, but he could still hear the sounds of sex, the wet slide, the sharp slaps of flesh on flesh.  
  
"He can barely even tolerate you anymore, and you brought it all upon yourself," Lucifer reminded him.  
  
Castiel's fist tingled as Grace collected within it. He opened his eyes and stared in shock, instantly dispersing the energy. It took more effort than he wanted to think about.  
  
When had he lost this much control? He knew this was a hallucination, that attempting to smite it would have no result whatsoever, but jealousy and anger burned in his gut and he wanted to bring his wrath down upon  _something_. His Grace had responded to that.  
  
He wanted things he shouldn't want. He wanted things he would never get.  
  
"O, how the mighty hath fallen, Castiel."  
  
Cas spread his wings and flew, willing himself far away from the apartment. His Grace raged and seethed inside him, begging to be let out.  
  
He flew quickly, pushing his wings to the highest limits of their ability and then beyond. He was aroused, painfully so, but the ache in his chest was the greater wound and needed more tending. He dared not stop because the second he paused, Lucifer would be back in the guise of Lisa or Dean or simply as himself and rub Castiel's nose in all the things he desired but could not reach.  
  
Still, he couldn't risk expending too much Grace and being unable to block Lucifer. He shuddered to think what horrors the archangel had in store for him if his defenses dropped and so, after his body had calmed but before his mind was serene, he found himself flying back to the motel room.  
  
"Did you find him?" Sam asked the moment Castiel materialized, somewhat anxious. Castiel nodded, hoping nothing of what he felt showed on his face.  
  
"Your brother was otherwise occupied," he said. Sam frowned with concern at his tone, but Cas continued. "He'll be fine and shall return in the morning."  
  
Sam's eyes lit with comprehension and then compassion. He reached out, a bit awkward, and squeezed Castiel's shoulder. The gesture seemed somehow apologetic and lasted only seconds before Sam turned away.  
  
Cas couldn't think what Sam might be apologizing for.


	6. Chapter 6

It was supposed to be an easy case, something to break up the monotony of going from one motel to the next. Sam had finally stumbled on to something in one of the books about an immensely powerful weapon, but he was burning out trying to find more references to the subject. Castiel was too; Sam had basically asked him to fly all over Creation the past few days, hunting down this or that text. It was slow work, and Dean had caught wind of a string of mysterious deaths a few towns over; they had agreed to take a break from hardcore research to gank whatever it was.  
  
Dean had been dying to kill something. Cas and Sam had somehow become even closer and Cas refused to so much as look at Dean any more. It seemed like every time Dean was in the room, Cas was anxious to be elsewhere. The angel was subtle about it. Dean doubted he would have even noticed if he hadn’t known Cas for as long as he did.  
  
Cas’s soul-penetrating stares had been fewer in number since Purgatory, but now they were gone completely. A lesser version of the stare was now being directed at Sam, and every time Dean saw it, he felt like the rug had been yanked out from under his feet to reveal a bottomless pit beneath.  
  
Sam was no help, either. He alternated between sending Cas compassionate looks and sending Dean pitying ones.  
  
At the moment, though, Sam and Cas’s staring was the least of Dean’s worries.  
  
The creature responsible for the line of dead bodies had turned out to be a shapeshifter. Dean had been overjoyed when he found out, since this was a supernatural son of a bitch he could actually take down. He'd been spoiling for a fight, cocky and angry, and that had made him careless.  
  
His carelessness, in turn, had landed him  _here_.  
  
"The great Dean Winchester..." the shape-shifter said in a voice not his own, pacing a few feet away from where Dean was tied to one of the pillars holding up the street overhead. The smells of rot, damp, and other things Dean didn’t want to think about were thick in the air; why did these sons of bitches always hide out in sewers?  
  
The shape-shifter tapped the end of the lead pipe he carried on the side of his shoe, as though assessing its quality. Apparently satisfied, he shot Dean a smirk that looked totally wrong on the face he had stolen.  
  
Maybe if Dean had been less unhappy with Castiel and felt a little less like the angel had abandoned him, he might have noticed that the Cas who approached him on the street wasn’t actually Cas before the shifter had covered his nose and mouth with a chloroform-soaked bandana. He’d passed out and hadn’t woken up until a few minutes ago, just as the bastard had finished tying him down. The creature must have been a former Boy Scout; no matter what Dean did, the knots held firm and the ropes stayed tight. His wrists, however, had acquired pretty severe rope burn and would hurt like a bitch once he finally got out of here.  
  
Assuming Sam or Cas figured out there was something wrong, anyway. He had told them he was going out for a drink. The shapeshifter had jumped him before he’d reached the bar.  
  
"Crowley has a reward out for whoever brings you, your brother, and the angel in," the shifter said. He smiled coldly and the expression looked so alien on Castiel's face, uncomfortably reminiscent of the time he’d been possessed by the Leviathans. Dean glared, ignoring the shiver running down his spine. "He's even opened up the field to shapeshifters and vampires, every unnatural thing that walks this earth."  
  
The shifter stepped closer to Dean and half-knelt in front of him.  
  
"Do you have any idea what it means for my kind that a shapeshifter will be the one to bring you in?" he asked, running the backs of his fingers gently down Dean's cheek. Dean growled and tried to bite the offending hand, but the shifter was quicker. He snatched his hand back, chuckling. "Of course you don't. To your lot, we're all monsters." He slugged Dean across the jaw. The hunter felt something fracture.  
  
"What does it matter to you that shifters are just human enough to be lonely?" the copy of Castiel hissed, realigning his now-misshapen hand. "To care that we're freaks?"  
  
"I don't give a fuck," Dean said. His mouth tasted like copper and he spat the blood out, running his tongue over the split in his lip. "We didn't come after you because you're a freak, we came after you because you were killing people."  
  
The shifter's hand had tightened around the pipe and he suddenly lifted it, then smashed it into Dean's ribs. Dean grunted, body instinctively trying to curl up to protect the damaged area but the ropes were too tight. He breathed through his teeth and intensified his glare at the shifter.  
  
"They deserved it," the monster wearing Cas's face hissed, blue eyes wild. "She was going to marry-" He cut himself off and stalked away from Dean, coming to an abrupt halt by the wall of the sewer.  
  
Well, that explained why the victims had all been from the same wedding party, the first two being the heavily pregnant bride and the unlucky groom. Dean laughed, more mocking than euphoric.  
  
"So that's why you went on your murder spree? Some bitch that probably never looked at you twice was going to marry her high school sweetheart?" he asked. The shifter tensed and Dean briefly congratulated himself on his victory. His words had struck home. His ribs hurt like a bitch and his head was muggy and there was still the ache in his chest that just would not go away; he wanted to take his anger and frustration out on someone. "And while you were at it, you thought you'd murder the bridesmaids too? What, they reject you when you asked them out? With  _your_  good looks, I'm surprised they said 'no'."  
  
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen this particular shifter sans someone else’s skin; he knew what they looked like underneath.  
  
"You understand  _nothing_ ," the shapeshifter snarled, whirling to face him. The Cas-double lifted his pipe and walked stalked threateningly towards Dean. Dean braced himself. "Jennifer loved me. She did. She didn't care that I was different, but then we got to high school and she met those-" The sentence ended in wordless rage. Apparently, no word did justice to the way the shapeshifter felt about the women he had murdered. "And Jenny left me. And then she met  _him_."  
  
"So she dumped you and you take it out on her five years later?" Dean demanded. The pipe slammed onto his shoulder and he cried out as he felt his collarbone snap. "Fuck!"  
  
"I thought you'd be sympathetic," the shifter said. He sounded disappointed. "You know what it's like to lose someone you care about."  
  
"What do you mean, you bastard?" Dean demanded, trying to find a position that didn't pull on either his arm or his ribs. His chest felt tight and now it wasn't just thoughts of Castiel causing it. Dean coughed and blood splattered the concrete floor.  
  
He'd punctured a lung. Damn it.  
  
The shifter indicated himself, running a hand from his neck to his chest. Dean's eyes tracked the movement, more wary than aroused. This wasn't Cas, as much as the shifter currently looked like him, and every mannerism screamed 'wrong'.  
  
"He hasn't noticed," the shifter said. "He's so painfully in love, but he hasn't seen you watching him. He doesn't know why you go drinking every time he's close to Sam." The shifter clutched at the front of the shirt he wore, directly above his heart. "He'd understand me, but he's the one that Crowley wants the most."  
  
The words were less painful than the broken bones, but damn if they didn't sting. The shifter was getting a full download of every one of Castiel’s memories and thoughts; the son of a bitch might be lying, but in Dean's experience, anything that wanted to hurt you would tell a lie only when the truth was less painful. Every word the imposter said rang with honesty.  
  
"Doesn't matter, you're not getting him," Dean vowed. The shifter seemed surprised and then he laughed.  
  
"What can you do about it?" he asked, gesturing to the ropes holding Dean immobile. "You're helpless. You are completely at my mercy, and Crowley never said anything about wanting you and your brother alive."  
  
Dean felt chilled. He blamed the sewer.  
  
"You need me alive," Dean said, though he wasn't entirely certain how true that was. He had thought that shifters could only imitate living people, but then there had been that shapeshifter during Oktoberfest that had been impersonating fictional characters by night and by day looked like a long-dead actress.  
  
"For your memories. So I can get close to them without them realizing what I am; yes." The Cas-copy loomed over Dean, an unreadable look in his eyes. "But there are different degrees of living."  
  
That was all the warning Dean got before the lead pipe came around again and cracked the other half of his ribs. It suddenly became a lot more difficult to breathe. Dean hacked a cough, blood coating the inside of his mouth, his throat, and his chin. The shapeshifter brought the pipe down on top of Dean's head and the hunter heard something crack.  
  
He chuckled, swaying in place because he could no longer hold himself up. He wouldn't have gone for the head first. He would have taken out the legs while the victim could still feel the pain. But this wasn't Hell and the shifter was no Alastair.  
  
The shifter delivered an uppercut to his jaw and he reeled back, head smacking against the pillar and teeth going partway through the flesh of his tongue. The lead pipe came down on his right leg next, but the angle was awkward and did nothing more than bruise the bone. The second strike shattered his kneecap.  
  
He opened his mouth to cry out, but he couldn’t get his lips and tongue to work properly. More blood dribbled down his lips. His breathing was a series of gurgling gasps that were getting shallower with each passing second.  
  
The shifter pulled back, breathing heavily. There seemed to be five of him in front of Dean, five copies of Castiel staring at him contemptuously and holding a bloodstained pipe.  
  
"There. You’re still alive enough for my purposes," Castiel spat at him, throwing down the pipe in disgust. “But you won't last the night regardless of whether or not I return to finish the job. Maybe once I'm done with your brother and the angel, I will."  
  
‘Bastard,’ Dean wanted to snarl, but he couldn’t speak. The shifter backhanded him. Dean sagged to the side, vision swimming and black creeping in at the edges.  
  
Fuck. This was how he was going to go out. Dean Winchester, the human an angel had raised from perdition, averter of the Apocalypse, had been beaten to death by a shapeshifter in the sewers of some no name Midwest town.  
  
He was going to die. This time, it might actually be permanent; he no longer had a Heaven-ordained role to play. No one had any stake in raising him from the dead and Sam knew better than to go to a crossroad's demon to bring him back.  
  
Bile rose in the back of his throat, but he could barely taste it over the copper tang coating his tongue. His head swam and it felt like there was something pressing on the back of his skull, massive and heavy like an enormous wolf trying to claw its way into a house.  
  
Something tore and the world stopped for a moment, like the calm before a devastating hurricane.  
  
Then the calm was over and there was white-hot, incoherent rage pouring into him. The feeling was so consuming, so blinding, Dean only caught flickers of other emotions at the periphery, too quick for him to identify any of them. Dean didn't have the energy or the marbles for that depth of feeling, not now, and he looked up at the shapeshifter, confused.  
  
Where there had been five Castiel dopplegangers, there were now eight. The new arrivals all wore expressions Dean could only describe as divine wrath and burned bright white. Energy crackled around them, throwing the shadows of six enormous wings onto the walls of the sewer. Their eyes were pure white light, the glow completely obscuring the blue Dean was familiar with.  
  
Dean had caught a glimpse of this fury once, when he had nearly given in and said 'yes' to Michael.  
  
What little air he had in his lungs left him, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the memories, the sight, or his injuries. Probably a combination of all three. He blinked a few times and the eight figures were reduced down to two, fuzzy-edged and blurry.  
  
"You will not touch him," Castiel growled, voice echoing and somehow getting louder as it reverberated. The shapeshifter spun to face the intruder, eyes almost comically wide and the pipe held up as though it might provide some defense.  
  
Castiel walked towards him, steps paced evenly but quickly, and the angel didn't even slow down when the shifter swung the pipe at his head. Cas caught it effortlessly with one hand and used his grip to jerk the shifter closer, then laid his other palm flat against the shifter's forehead. Castiel curled his fingers around the creature's head, digging the tips hard enough into the flesh to draw blood. He lifted the shapeshifter off the floor, seemingly unbothered by the monster's struggles.  
  
Dean felt another wave of righteous fury wash over him and then the shapeshifter was screaming, clawing at Castiel's hand and arm but doing no damage. The shifter's skin began to bubble and melt, oozing off of his body in rapidly quickening streams. A puddle of still steaming muscle, blood, skin, and hair collected beneath the creature's weakly kicking feet. The shifter convulsed in some kind of seizure that lasted almost half a minute before it abruptly went still. Cas still had hold of the thing's blackened skeleton, but that quickly crumbled into dust. Cas closed his fist through the burned skull, shattering it and dropping the last fragments on the cooling mound of flesh.  
  
The rage Dean had felt earlier subsided, burning down to embers as the shapeshifter died. Dean could sense the foundations of the firestorm now, the fierce protectiveness that had ignited. He could feel the fear and worry, the grim satisfaction, and a deep, bittersweet ache Dean recognized. Longing, for something one was sure one would never have.  
  
These weren’t his emotions, but he was feeling them. What the hell had happened?  
  
Dean felt the curious urge to dive deeper, maybe find out where these feelings were coming from. Something in his mind egged him on, the encouragement intensifying when Cas hurried over to him and knelt down. Gentle fingers touched Dean’s face, lifting his chin so Cas could see his eyes and perhaps assess the damage.  
  
"Dean?" Cas’s voice didn’t exactly waver, but it wasn’t fully steady either and that's when it finally hit Dean.  
  
"I c'n feel you," he mumbled in awe. He probed at Castiel's emotions experimentally and was rewarded with a sharp surge of shock, but then there was a rapid lessening of the awareness like storm shutters drawing closed. Dean grabbed at the edges, doing his best to keep the channel open and sinking mental hooks into anything he could reach. He wasn't sure why, but he was greedy for this. He wanted to take all of Cas into himself and make it his.  
  
Cas would be his angel again, not Sam's, not even if he wanted to. The thought would probably make him feel guilty later, when he didn't feel like a few hellhounds had been using him to play tug-of-war.  
  
Cas leaned forward, his chest pressing against Dean's and the hunter would have enjoyed it if his ribs weren't broken. The way Castiel’s mind hesitantly opened back up was even more welcome than the contact.  
  
"What're you-" he said, but then suddenly his hands were free and he sagged forward, his full weight falling against Cas. He couldn't feel his fingers, only painful pins and needles in the vague shape of hands. Both of his arms fell to his sides and the sharp jolt send another stab of pain through his nerves from his broken collarbone. He hissed and then coughed. Blood splashed onto Castiel's coat.  
  
Castiel gently leaned him back against the pillar and lifted his hands to Dean's face. Dean tried to concentrate, but his head was filled with cotton and everything seemed darker than it had a moment ago. Then Cas's hands were cupping his cheeks, his eyes slid closed, and all physical sensation ceased. He was only aware of Cas, the sense of the angel nearby; his concern, his still-cooling fury, the love that underlay everything.   
  
Dean reached for the last, exhausted and drunk on adrenaline and endorphins and completely inhibition-free. For a moment, he thought he felt Cas respond.  
  
Then the connection dimmed to nothing, and Dean was alone once more.  
  


* * *

  
  
The damage was extensive. If Dean Winchester had not been as accustomed to taking punishment as he was, it would have been too late to save him.  
  
Castiel had almost been too late anyway.  
  
"A minute later, and loverboy would be-" Lucifer said.  
  
"Shut up," Cas replied, eyes closed and pouring his Grace into Dean. He could sense it wrapping around the ribs and realigning them before fusing them together again. The shattered kneecap pieced itself together and the bruised shinbone strengthened. The Grace banished the blood from Dean's lungs and rejoined his ruptured veins. It ran along the backside of Dean's skull, easing into the wound and soothing the swelling inside his head before fixing the bone and broken skin. Dean was whole and healthy once more.  
  
Castiel relaxed and pulled back, opening his eyes. He felt mildly dizzy from the expenditure of so much of his energy, but he ignored it. He would recover.  
  
"Are you sure, brother?" Lucifer asked, voice dark and gleeful. Cas ignored him too.  
  
He had almost lost Dean. Neither Sam nor he had thought anything odd when Dean left to go to the bar, even if neither of them knew why Dean seemed to feel compelled to leave. Sam had offered to go with, but Dean had been adamant about going by himself. Shortly thereafter, Cas had started to feel uneasy, but he hadn't thought much of it until the Grace barrier he had put between himself and the bond he shared with Dean suddenly tore and Cas had been swamped by fear and pain.  
  
Sam had noticed his sudden tension, but had only had time to form the first few words of a question before Castiel had spread his wings, seized the bond, and followed it to Dean. He had been beyond rational thought, beyond wanting to keep Dean in ignorance of their connection, and had simply followed his instincts.  
  
And now, Dean knew.  
  
Castiel had been so careful this past week. Ever since he had accidentally dropped in on the hunter having sex, it had become too painful to touch what he could not rightfully claim. He’d shorn up his defenses against both the bond and Lucifer, but it had drained him. That, on top of the frequent flying and the healing just now, had exhausted his energy. His ‘batteries’, as Dean put it, were running on fumes.  
  
He had only had enough power to fly back to the motel. What little strength he’d had after the healing had gone into repairing and strengthening the wall between himself and the bond.  
  
Perhaps Dean would pass this experience off as a dream brought on by the pain. Or perhaps his anger would be mitigated if he couldn’t feel the full extent of their connection. In any case, Cas knew that he didn’t have enough power, even when fully rested, to trap Lucifer. This was the most good he could do with what he had left.  
  
Lucifer was oddly quiet, though Castiel didn’t know whether to be grateful or frightened. The silence and stillness were eerie, like finding an abandoned playground, a lone swing still swaying in the wind while dark clouds gathered overhead.  
  
He would worry about the consequences of exhausting himself later. For now, he needed to get them somewhere safe before the heavy foreboding broke into pandemonium.  
  
Castiel picked Dean up in his arms and spread his wings. He reappeared in the motel room he shared with the brothers almost a full minute later, Dean still sleeping peacefully in his hold.  
  
He was getting slow.  
  
"Cas! What hap-" Sam asked, then he noticed the angel's burden. "Dean!"  
  
"He's asleep, but unhurt," Castiel said, voice oddly distant to his own ears. "He'll stay that way for a few hours." He may have laid the mojo on a little thick when putting Dean under, but too late to regret that now. He walked over to one of the beds and set Dean down, arranging his limbs so he'd be comfortable.  
  
"Cas, is something wrong?" Sam's voice was distant too, like he was speaking through water. "You look exhausted."  
  
"I'll be fine," he assured Sam, straightening up. But Sam was no longer there. Lucifer stood in front of him, a cruel smile on his face.  
  
"I asked you, 'are you sure'?" he said, reaching out with one hand and shoving Castiel backwards. Cas felt his back hit the mattress of the empty bed and his head suddenly went blank, eyes staring upwards without seeing the ceiling.  
  
He didn't hear Sam shouting his name nor did he feel the hands shaking his shoulders. He only heard Lucifer laughing and then everything stopped.  
  


* * *

  
  
Dean woke up feeling refreshed and pain-free. That struck him as odd, though it took him a moment to remember why. It took him another to recall why he wasn’t dead.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
Dean sat up and poked carefully at his ribs. They were still a bit sore where he touched them, but that barely registered as pain. He looked up and saw Sam sitting at the table, piles of research in front of him, but there were no books open. Everything on the table was painfully neat, like Sam had busied himself with straightening out his workspace rather than working.  
  
"Hey," Dean said, forcing out a grin. Sam returned the expression wearily.  
  
"Good, you're awake," he said, turning towards Dean and leaning forward slightly. His expression was worried but intense, more determination than fear, with urgency underscoring both. “What happened?"  
  
"Good to see you too, Sammy," Dean said, frowning slightly. He looked around the room briefly, from the corner with the uncomfortable, threadbare chair to the small dining area Sam and Cas had set up shop in before Dean's run-in with the shapeshifter. There was a conspicuous lack of angel. "Where's Cas?"  
  
Sam wordlessly gestured to the second bed. Dean looked. He stilled, eyes going wide at the sight.  
  
Cas was lying on the mattress, completely still except for the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling, but he didn't seem to be seeing anything. His expression was totally blank.  
  
He looked just like he had when Dean and Sam had left him in the mental ward. Dean shivered and turned back to Sam.  
  
"What the hell happened?" he asked, getting out of his bed and moving to sit on the edge of Castiel's mattress. He shook the angel, glaring at him and willing him to wake up. There was a cold feeling in his chest and an emptiness in his head and Dean didn't like it. "Come on, wake up-"  
  
"I tried that already, Dean," Sam said. The words sounded like he would have snapped if he'd had the energy. "I tried everything. I even dumped water on him, hoping he would snap out of it, but..." He shrugged helplessly.  
  
The material under Dean's hands was damp in patches, but not as wet as it should have been.  
  
"How long has he been like this?" Dean asked, going still.  
  
"A few hours," Sam replied. "He and I were going over some of our old translations-"  
  
Dean snorted weakly. He should have known, even when taking a break, Sam would still find a way to do work.  
  
"-then he suddenly tensed and flew away. Less than fifteen minutes later, he was back and he was carrying you. He set you down and then he just... collapsed. He won't wake up. I don't think he even knows we're here."  
  
The more he heard, the less he liked this whole situation. It was too similar to how Cas had been after fixing Sam and they couldn’t go through that again.  
  
"God damn it," Dean said. Sam was quiet for a moment.  
  
"What happened out there?" he asked softly. Dean shrugged roughly, hand tightening on the angel's T-shirt.  
  
"Shifter jumped me after I left the room," he said, voice clipped. "I woke up in the sewers and he basically beat me to death with a pipe."  
  
Sam inhaled sharply at that, fear and shock, and Dean could picture his instinctive jolt forward, hand reaching out to reassure himself that Dean was all right. Dean shook his head, a reassurance and dismissal all in one.  
  
"Cas showed up and man, you should have seen it." Dean snorted a faint, humorless laugh. "Case closed.”  
  
"Cas killed him?" Sam asked, seeking confirmation.  
  
"Smote him with extreme prejudice, more like," Dean replied, nodding. He swallowed thickly and resisted the urge to shake Castiel again. It wouldn't do any good. He let go of the angel’s shirt and smoothed the material. "Wake up, you son of a bitch."  
  
He had so many questions, the chief among them being why he had been able to feel Cas's emotions then and couldn't now. He didn't want to believe that everything he thought he felt had been his imagination; it had been too real, too vivid.  
  
He just had to know why.  
  
“God damn it, wake up.”


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing he was aware of was the screaming, the sounds of thousands upon thousands of souls being tortured. Next were the scents of blood and decay and sweat, but all the smells and all the sounds were muffled, somehow. They were duller than he remembered from his two trips into the Pit. His body felt heavy, unnaturally so, and when he shifted, pain spiked through him from his shoulders, his wrists, one of his hips, and his ankles.  
  
He shouldn't have a body. Vessels were never worn in the Pit.  
  
Castiel opened his eyes, dread pooling heavily in the stomach he shouldn't have. He stared upwards, body suspended from meathooks attached to chains that seemed to go on forever. Far, far above him, he could see a faint white light that he knew he would never reach, no matter how high or how fast he climbed. Other chains spiderwebbed across his vision, each with a human soul at the center and all being tortured by another in various stages of decomposition.  
  
The webs were everywhere; above, to either side, and probably below as well, but Castiel couldn’t turn enough to check. He couldn’t help hearing, though. Even though he refused to look at the suffering around him, the sounds conjured up images in his mind.  
  
He heard the splintering of bone and pictured ribs cracking like broken eggs. He heard the crack of a whip and a woman’s scream and saw the bloody gashes on previously smooth flesh. He heard chains clank and screaming and sawing and the wet smack of flesh on flesh; the last perhaps the worst noise of all.  
  
Was this how a human experienced Hell? Men and women being raped, being torn to shreds, being broken into little pieces until the most promising were offered a chance to get off the rack to do unto others as they had been done to?  
  
"Oh, good, you're awake."  
  
The voice was familiar and Castiel suddenly felt chilled all over. Slowly, hoping that he was mistaken, he looked towards the source.  
  
Dean stood there, a smirk on his face and not a trace of light anywhere in his soul. His eyes were pools of ink. The sight was like a blow and Castiel couldn't breathe for a moment.  
  
"This isn't real," he said, trying to project more confidence than he felt. His voice shook.  
  
"Oh, it's real all right," Dean said.  
  
Cas reached for the bond in his head. Consequences be damned, this was the most realistic vision Lucifer had ever managed to create. He would accept whatever punishment Dean saw fit to give him just so long as he could break free.  
  
He couldn’t find it.  
  
His head was empty, no trace of Grace or of the golden light that had come to represent safety and sanity to him. He groped blindly for something, anything; a mere illusion couldn’t have severed the connection. The bond still existed, surely. It couldn’t have vanished.  
  
There was a quiet, uneasy voice in the back of his head reminding him that he’d never had trouble sensing the bond before now, even when hallucinating, so what made this different?  
  
Had he Fallen?  
  
"Dean, what-" Cas started to say, but Dean cut him off.  
  
"You've been asleep for a long time, Castiel," he said, striding confidently closer. "Things have changed."  
  
The use of his full name sent a spark of discomfort down his spine.  
  
"What happened to you?" Castiel demanded, shivering in a nonexistent chill when Dean was finally close enough to loom over him. He was still smirking.  
  
"Hell," he answered. "Held out for fifty years this time, convinced you'd come to get me out. Well." He jabbed his thumb towards his chest. "Obviously, that didn't happen."  
  
"I-" Cas started to say. Dean slapped a hand over his mouth and squeezed his jaw painfully.  
  
"You don't get to make excuses, Cas," Dean spat. "You weren't here when I needed you." He tore his hand away and turned. He waved his hand horizontally over what had been empty space and there was suddenly a long table top covered with various knives, needles, whips, and other devices and instruments. "That's ok. I learned a few tricks down here and all I've been thinking about for the past thirty years is what I would do to you if you ever ended up on my rack."  
  
Fifty years on the rack. Thirty years off.  
  
Dean had suffered down here for eighty years. Where had Castiel been? He could remember nothing after smiting the shapeshifter and returning to the motel room. Sam had been there, then Lucifer, and then nothing.  
  
"Dean," he said. He wanted to say something about how he wouldn't have left Dean down here, not if he could help it. He would have come for Dean, but something must have prevented him. Before he could get another word out, Dean rounded on him and slammed a knife into his gut. Cas choked, any words he would have said disappearing in a pained grunt.  
  
Hallucination or not, this certainly felt real enough.  
  
"I already said I don't want to hear you," Dean growled, pulling the blade up towards Castiel's chin. At the top of Cas's sternum, he stopped and withdrew it. "I'd cut out your tongue, but it would be a shame to ruin such a pretty mouth this early. I'll start with your lungs."  
  
Castiel's breathing quickened, interspersed with sharp hisses as Dean cut a line under his collarbone and another above his hips.  
  
"I would never have left you," Cas choked out, gritting his teeth as Dean began to peel the skin away from his ribs. "You know that, Dean. I have always-"  
  
Dean grabbed Castiel's chin again, his hand sticky with blood. He pressed his thumb and index finger into the fallen angel's jaw, forcing Castiel's mouth open.  
  
"I told you not to make excuses," Dean said, sliding the knife into Castiel's mouth and pressing the sharp edge against one of the corners. Cas stilled. "Actually, you'd probably enjoy me using that mouth of yours too much. This is supposed to be punishment, Cas." Dean dragged the knife through the flesh and Cas gagged on his own blood. He thrashed, trying instinctively to turn his head away, but Dean's grip was too strong. Dean switched sides and cut through the other cheek as well, careful not to nick his own fingers.  
  
"Dean," Cas gurgled, trying to speak around the crimson liquid in his mouth. Dean yanked on his jaw, pulling it open as far as the joint would allow and then reaching in. Cas could taste sulfur and ash on Dean's thumb as the demon pulled on his tongue. Dean's grip was slippery, a combination of blood and saliva making it hard to hold, but he pinched the muscle and began to saw Castiel's tongue free. Cas cried out, trying to pull his head back, but he failed.  
  
Dean tossed the chunk of flesh aside, a satisfied expression on his face.  
  
"Now that you're quiet, I don't need to rush to your lungs," he said, turning back to the table with his instruments. He set down the knife and picked up a hammer. "How do you like your ribs, Cas?"   
  
Cas's chest heaved as he coughed. He turned his head to the side, trying to get rid of the blood clogging his windpipe. Without a tongue, the most he could hope to do was encourage it to dribble out of his mouth.  
  
There was a rush of air and then pain exploded in his chest. Cas tried to curl up, but the hooks holding him suspended prevented him. Dean brought the hammer down again, targeting a different rib. The bone gave a sickening crack and then Dean dug his hand underneath it and tore it free. The fragment went the way of Castiel's tongue.  
  
Cas couldn't even cry out. The demon broke his ribs one by one, blood coating the head of the hammer and covering Dean's shirt, flecking his face. Dean pulled out the rest of the bones, taking only one fragment at a time and making sure to twist any pieces hanging on, rupturing as many of Castiel's organs as he could. He dragged one of the larger fragments over Castiel's stomach, widening the puncture he had made with the initial knife wound until the acid was spilling out over the rest of Castiel's internal organs.  
  
Surely he couldn't hallucinate this much pain? There wasn't even the mercy of death in Hell, even though anything mortal would have long since died.  
  
"I'm pretty good at flaying people," Dean commented casually, dropping the bone fragment he had been playing with and poking the few remaining ones until they were buried in whatever organ they rested on top of. Most ended up in Castiel's lungs. "After a bit of practice, I can usually get their skin off in one piece. I'm feeling lucky today; I'll probably be able to do yours on the first try."  
  
Castiel stared at the far-distant entrance of the Pit, eyes glazed over with pain. He was dizzy with it and his head hurt like something was slamming into with a battering ram. Was this what pain was like for humans? When there was so much, even the parts of your body that had barely been touched ached?  
  
Dean picked up a smaller knife and walked to Castiel's feet. He began prying up the toenails one by one, shoving the blade between the hardened keratin and the nail bed and twisting his wrist. His other hand held Cas tightly around the ankle, beneath where the meathook pierced his leg. Every so often, at irregular intervals, he'd dig his thumb into the wound to widen it.  
  
The pounding in Castiel's head increased, or perhaps just his perception of it did. Cas's whole body shook, nerves overloading on sensation. Dean slid the tip of the blade beneath Castiel's skin at the tip of his toe, and slowly began to cut a line to the center of his foot. He repeated the process with the other toes, giving himself little inroads into the skin so he could peel it off.  
  
Cas couldn't speak, he couldn't move; any chance he had to communicate with Dean was gone for now. He would have to try again tomorrow and just endure whatever the demon wearing Dean's face had planned for him today. Eventually, he would break through. He couldn't believe that something as brilliant and beautiful as Dean Winchester's soul had been irrevocably destroyed.  
  
If it took a thousand years, he would find a way back to the Dean he had lost.  
  
There was enormous pressure in his skull, like someone had taken a jackhammer to the back of it. Castiel shut his eyes.  
  
Dean began to peel the skin away from each of Castiel’s toes, carefully tugging until he had enough to get a good grip. He pulled, peeling everything up to his knee away in one long strip. Castiel gritted his teeth against the pain, body shaking with the force of it.  
  
The pressure in his head broke as something in it shattered. Cas opened his mouth to cry out, as though voicing the pain would help to lessen it, as though he could yell with partially dried blood blocking his throat, but the ache suddenly subsided. Worry, not blood, choked him now. Anger, confusion, desire, hope, and fear poured into Cas and he gasped in shock, eyes flying open. The far-distant light was no longer white, but gold and it glowed far brighter. The golden light grew bigger and bigger and Cas abruptly realized that it wasn't getting larger, it was getting closer.  
  
It streaked past all the webs of human misery above Cas. He half expected it to pass him by as well, but then it was upon him, slamming into him so hard he lost the air he had recently regained.  
  
The meathooks holding him up disintegrated and the chains holding him down crumbled. His body was new again in an instant and, without the support of the chains, he began to fall.  
  
Something caught him, slipping under his arms and wrapping around his back. His tumble instantly stopped and then they were heading straight up just as fast as he'd been falling. Faster, even. They flew past hundreds of souls, all screaming to be saved, and Cas had an odd sense of deja vu.  
  
This had happened before, but that time, he had been the one with wings. He clung tighter to the light, uncertain of what was happening but trusting in it absolutely.  
  
Everything around him grew brighter and brighter and Cas shut his eyes again, knowing they were reaching the exit. The light grew so intense Cas could see it even though his closed eyelids and then suddenly it was gone and he snapped his eyes open.  
  
He stared at the cracked ceiling of a motel room, head pounding and breath coming in shallow pants. His head ached, but that was quickly fading and while he still felt phantom pain in his mouth, chest, and leg, he didn't actually hurt.  
  
None of it had been real.  
  
"Cas?" Dean's face replaced the view of the ceiling and Cas felt a wave of trepidation and worry not his own. Castiel swallowed heavily, feeling the bond pulse bright and strong in the back of his head, the pieces of the destroyed Grace wall littering the mental surface around it.  
  
The bond hummed contentedly, now more than a mere thread between himself and Dean. The connection had transformed into a rope bridge, a bit shaky but anchored very strongly on both sides.  
  
"Dean," he croaked. Dean smiled and straightened up, pulling Castiel with him. Relief and triumph transmitted themselves across the bond, loud and almost obnoxious. Cas winced, the throbbing in his head getting worse.  
  
"Oh, thank fuck, it worked," Dean said. There was a flash of pride, almost blinding to Castiel’s still-sensitive mind.  
  
"Cas!" Sam said. Castiel looked over in time to see Sam get out of his chair. The younger Winchester walked over and sat at the edge of the other mattress, facing Dean and the angel. "How are you feeling?"  
  
There was concern and a hint of guilt flowing through him, but those were not his feelings.  
  
"I am well," Castiel replied, trying to build up the remaining bricks of the wall between himself and Dean, just enough so that the throbbing in his head would go down. He had succeeded only partially before Dean's hand suddenly seized his wrist in what would have been a painfully tight grip if Cas was human. Anger and fear stabbed through Castiel's head.  
  
"Don't shut me out again," Dean demanded, staring at Castiel.  
  
"I'm not," Castiel replied, sending an echo of his pain across the bond to Dean, who recoiled as though struck. Cas immediately followed it up with something more soothing as a kind of apology. "But your emotions are very strong. It's making my head ache."  
  
"I'm doing that?" Dean asked, stunned. Castiel nodded and Dean let go. A few seconds later, Cas felt a wave of apology and guilt and this time, when he put up a partial wall, Dean let him do it in peace. The throbbing in Castiel's head immediately subsided.  
  
"... can someone explain to me what just happened?" Sam asked, looking from one to the other in confusion. "What did you do, Dean?" His voice wasn't accusatory in the least, just puzzled.  
  
Dean floundered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth while he groped for words.  
  
"Dean used the bond he and I share to pull me out of the hallucination I was experiencing and ground me in reality," Cas explained. Sam and Dean both blinked.  
  
"I think that just raised more questions," Sam said. Dean poked at the bond carefully, examining it.  
  
"So, this is what you meant by 'profound bond', huh?" he said. He frowned. "If we’ve had it for over a year, why am I just now finding out about it?”  
  
"Sounds like someone's not too happy with you, Cassie."  
  
Castiel closed his eyes briefly, wishing the sound of Lucifer's voice was as easy to block as the sight. It had been too much to hope for that the madness would be eradicated by the deepening of the bond. Cas had known from the beginning that it would take full consummation, but he had hoped.  
  
"Wonder how mad he'll be when he finds out that you've neglected to mention the fine print." Lucifer was stretched out on the other bed behind Sam, his arms folded beneath his head. His form was very insubstantial, almost ghostlike, but existent.  
  
"Our bond has existed for more than a year,” Castiel said reluctantly. “The beginnings of it have been present since I took you from the Pit.”  
  
Dean stilled.  
  
"What?" he demanded. His shock and anger were almost tangible things.  
  
"By the time I found you, your soul had already been tainted. In order to purify you and raise you as the Righteous Man, I poured my Grace into you. I didn't just rebuild your body, Dean," Castiel told him, meeting his eyes directly. "I used pieces of my being to bind together the tattered fragments of your soul. When the time came for you to be placed back into your body, some of my Grace had bonded too strongly to you for me to remove them without causing you harm."  
  
"And you never thought about telling me?" Dean demanded, getting up and walking away to pace at the end of the bed. Castiel could feel his anger and his suspicion and for a moment he regretted ever taking down the wall between their minds, all those weeks ago at the hospital.  
  
“The bond was originally no more invasive than one a guardian would have with their charge,” Cas said.   
  
"’Originally’?" Sam prompted, tone apologetic but firm.  
  
Cas felt the weight of Dean’s stare but pressed on even as it pinned him down.  
  
“When I was in the mental hospital, I tried to put the madness in a Cage, similar to how my Father trapped Lucifer,” Cas explained. “I did not have the power to do it. I accidentally brought down the wall between Dean’s mind and my own and discovered that the bond could keep me grounded. The madness had less of an effect on me.”  
  
The Winchesters were silent. Castiel looked down, studying the bedspread.  
  
“I didn’t intend to deepen the bond, but given the circumstances, it grew stronger on its own,” Cas said. Sam made a curious, interested noise in the back of his throat and Dean breathed in sharply, realization emanating from him.  
  
“Physical proximity increases the bond’s effects,” Castiel explained shortly. Sam nodded and Dean looked towards the motel room window, gesturing with his hand for Cas to continue.  
  
“If I blocked the connection completely, I would succumb to the madness, so I left myself a thread to hold on to. Of course, that meant the wall between myself and the bond was weak and it broke earlier when the shapeshifter nearly killed Dean.” It had more broke under the force of his own reaction than anything the shifter had done, but there was no need to mention how big a part his feelings had played. “I did repair the cracks, but Dean had already become aware that the bond existed.” He stopped for a moment to breathe and allow the hunters to digest the information.  
  
There was a long pause, during which Cas became aware of a slow-burning anger stemming from Dean.  
  
"You never wanted me to find out," Dean finally said. He was a maelstrom of fury and hurt and then suddenly, there was nothing. Castiel looked at him in shock. Dean's face was pinched as though he was concentrating very hard on something and the bond had been completely blocked off from his end. A lifetime of holding his emotions close to his chest had paid off. "Fine. Better? Now it's like I never did."  
  
"Ouch," Lucifer commented, pseudo-sympathetically. He was now fully solid behind Sam. "And you haven't even told him the worst part yet. What do you think he'll do after you tell him?"  
  
“Guardian angels can protect more than one person, right?” Sam asked suddenly, a slightly desperate note in his voice. “And the angel would have a bond with everyone?”  
  
Castiel nodded slowly, reeling a bit from the sudden loss of connection. Sam seemed to relax.  
  
“So, angels don’t see bonds as a big deal? Is that why you didn’t tell us?” he asked gently. “If they’re that commonplace…”  
  
Dean's block wavered for a moment and Cas could feel the hurt spilling out of the break, though nothing showed on Dean's face.  
  
"Well, Cas? Is that why you didn't tell me? Because it wasn't a ‘big deal’?" he demanded flatly, crossing his arms and staring at the angel.  
  
"He's not going to like this one bit," Lucifer singsonged, smiling. He was still disconcertingly solid and Dean had the bond locked down tight.  
  
“At first, yes,” Cas said, looking back at Dean, heart beginning to trip in trepidation. “And I am no guardian. I was stationed on Earth to fight and to carry out what I believed were Heaven’s orders; there were too few of us and too many Seals. I couldn’t be excused from my duties to perch on your shoulder.”  
  
Dean scowled at that, but there seemed to be little actual anger behind it. He gave a grudging nod.  
  
“I blocked the bond off and it virtually ceased to exist until I broke the wall. There was no point in mentioning it before,” Castiel said.  
  
Sam was nodding, as though the explanation satisfied him. Dean didn’t nod, but there was less tension in his frame. Pity the difficult part had yet to come.  
  
Castiel would have given anything to be allowed to stop there and say no more, but he didn’t want to think about how Dean would react when he found out that Cas hadn’t fully disclosed everything. Dean would find out, that was inevitable.  
  
“Go on, spit it out,” Lucifer said, unholy glee in his voice.  
  
“However, considering what has happened, I would have needed to reveal it to you tonight even if you hadn’t asked,” Cas said reluctantly.  
  
Dean tensed again, scowl turning suspicious, and Sam frowned, confused.  
  
“What happened?” Sam asked. “You mean Dean pulling you out of the hallucination?”  
  
“Why?” Dean demanded.  
  
Castiel didn’t speak for a moment, attempting to find the right words to explain what Dean had done in ignorance.  
  
“You may as well just say it. He won’t be any less angry if you talk around it,” Lucifer said.  
  
“It isn’t uncommon for an angel to have multiple bonds,” Castiel began. “I actually had bonds with both Anael and Balthazar that were, at one point, stronger than our bond at its inception. Of course, those were severed when she Fell and when he faked his own death.”  
  
“And?” Dean snapped. Sam shot him an annoyed look, but Dean stiffly shrugged it off.  
  
“The only thing that differentiates the different types of bonds is the depth,” Castiel said slowly. “Shallow bonds, like what a guardian forms with his or her charges, are numerous and can be broken with little effort. Slightly deeper bonds are reserved for close comrades, usually angels from the same garrison and of the same order. Those are obviously less common and are more difficult to sever.”  
  
Sam was listening with rapt attention, naked interest in his eyes. Dean seemed far more wary of the information, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
“The deepest level is reserved for mated pairs. An angel can only have one bond of that depth at a time. It’s usually severed by death, though not always,” Cas said.  
  
Dean’s expression seemed frozen halfway between curiosity and foreboding, like his brain was drawing conclusions he’d rather it wouldn’t. Sam, however, had no such reservations. His eyes had widened comically, his interest igniting into full-blown excitement.  
  
“Angels  _mate_?” he asked.  
  
“You’re telling us all this why?” Dean asked quickly. Sam’s expression quickly sobered at his older brother’s tone, comprehension slowly crawling over his face as well.  
  
“Ooh, they’re  _sharp_ ,” Lucifer said approvingly, clapping mockingly.  
  
“In order to pull me out, Dean had to travel deeper into my mind than I have permitted anyone,” Cas explained quietly. “That, combined with what happened in the sewers earlier, resulted in some unexpected side effects. This bond is now the deepest I’ve ever had, stronger than what I shared with my brother or sister.”  
  
There was a thin, fragile silence for several too-long moments following Castiel’s declaration. Then Dean forced himself to laugh, though it was obvious from the sound that he found nothing at all funny about the situation. Sam just stared, first at Cas, then at Dean.  
  
“Man, Cas, you need to work on your wording,” Dean said, voice as brittle as the quiet had been. “Because it really sounds like you just told me that I went and angel-married you without realizing it.”  
  
Castiel looked down, studying the bedspread once more.  
  
“Dean,” Sam said, voice soothing in an attempt to placate his brother.   
  
“I misunderstood, right, Cas?” Dean asked, stepping closer to the angel and stopping just short of actually looming over him. Castiel could feel anger boiling over in Dean, and shock, far too much for the hunter to hold close and hide. “That’s not what you’re telling me, right?”  
  
In that moment, if Castiel could change the past, he would have given his Grace for the chance. Anything to not have to hear Dean’s fury when he realized that he was now mated to Castiel.  
  
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel admitted softly.  
  
"See?" Lucifer whispered. He had moved, now sitting behind Castiel on the mattress. He laid a hand on the angel's shoulder. "I told you he wouldn't be happy. He doesn't want this, Cassie."  
  
"Nothing has to change," Castiel said, still not looking at Dean. "The bond can still be broken or blocked. It won't affect Dean at all and I can find some other method of grounding myself."  
  
Dean’s expression shuttered at the mention of ‘grounding’. To Castiel’s surprise, he felt the stranglehold Dean had on his emotions loosen. The angel could now feel Dean’s anger and confusion more fully, but behind him, Lucifer faded somewhat. The archangel scowled, once again ghostlike.  
  
“Killjoy,” he murmured.  
  
“What other methods are there?” Dean asked flatly, sounding less interested in getting an answer than asking the question. “You told us you couldn’t Cage the bastard.”  
  
Castiel didn’t answer. Dean rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted.  
  
“I need some air. Just… stay here,” he said as he turned towards the door.   
  
"Dean..." Sam said, but Dean ignored him. He stalked towards the door and yanked it open. It slammed shut behind him and Sam turned back to Castiel with a sigh. "That could have gone better."  
  
"Yes, it could have," Castiel replied. Sam gave him a strained smile.  
  
"We need to teach you about understatements and humor sometime," he said. Silence fell and dragged on before Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "So... congratulations?"  
  


* * *

  
  
Dean leaned against the trunk of the car, staring up into the night sky. The air was a bit chilly, but not enough to send him running back into the motel room for his coat.  
  
He heard the room’s door open and the sound of familiar footsteps. Sam approached his older brother cautiously, as though trying to get a feel for Dean's mood before speaking. Dean heard the sound of something being dropped on the gravel next to the car, but didn't turn.  
  
"What?" Dean asked, gaze still fixed on the sky. Sam leaned against the trunk of the car as well and followed Dean's line of sight.  
  
"I already told Cas this, but... congratulations," Sam said. Dean scowled.  
  
"This isn't a joke, Sam," he said. He kicked at some of the small stones at his feet and gave a soft huff of laughter. "Or maybe it is. Not like any of this was intentional."  
  
"Maybe not, but-" Sam started to say, but Dean held up a hand.  
  
"Don't even start with that," he said warningly.  
  
"I'm just saying," Sam said patiently but stubbornly. "You didn’t know what would happen. Cas obviously doesn’t blame you, so why-”  
  
“You think I’m worried about Cas  _blaming_  me?” Dean demanded, turning fully to face the younger Winchester and stare at him incredulously. “If there’s anyone to blame for this, it’s him. I didn’t even fucking  _know_  about our ‘bond’ until I apparently stumbled my way into a goddamn  _marriage_.”  
  
“It’s not like Cas meant-” Sam started. Dean cut him off with a snort and kicked one of the larger pieces of gravel to the other side of the parking lot.  
  
“Yeah, I know,” he said. He looked back up at the night sky and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “He didn’t  _mean_  to keep it from me. He didn’t  _mean_  for me to accidentally marry him while he was tripping on whatever he lifted from your head.”  
  
Sam went quiet next to him, thinking. The silence was tense and awkward and Dean shifted uncomfortably, about to suggest that they go get beers or something because there was no way he was going to deal with this sober, when Sam spoke again.  
  
"Are you angry?" he asked.  
  
"Wouldn't you be?" Dean replied shortly. "Hell, if not for the shifter almost beating me to death, I probably would never have found out."  
  
There was an expectant pause, but Dean had no intention of continuing.  
  
“Sounds like you’re more upset he didn’t tell you than upset about what happened,” Sam said softly.   
  
“I-” Dean said, then cut himself off. He shook his head. “I’ll be pissed about that once I’m done being pissed that he didn’t tell me.”  
  
“Sure,” Sam agreed easily. Dean glared at him. “What? I’m agreeing with you.”  
  
“Right,” Dean grumbled. They lapsed into silence again, but Sam seemed a lot more comfortable with it than Dean was. Sam leaned against the car, a small, contented smile on his face as he looked up at the night sky. Dean shifted in place and dropped his gaze from the stars to the other vehicles in the parking lot. “I don’t do commitment, Sammy. It doesn’t work for me.”  
  
He wanted to take the words back the instant they left his mouth, but it was too late now.  
  
"It hasn't worked for you  _yet_ ," Sam said gently, without mockery. Dean breathed easier. The younger Winchester paused for a moment, as if debating the wisdom of his next words. "And it still sounds like you’re more upset because you didn’t know than upset that the bond exists.”  
  
"I am upset that it exists," Dean growled, but without much heart. "Are we done talking about our feelings now, Samantha?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm done," Sam replied, standing up. Dean watched him, wary of the easy capitulation. "Just think about it, ok? Then talk to Cas. Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to the motel room. He offered it to Dean, who took it automatically. "I'll see you in the morning."  
  
"Wait, what? Where are you going?" Dean asked, watching as Sam picked up a small duffle from the ground next to the car's tire and headed in the direction of the lobby. Sam stopped and threw an incredulous smile at Dean.  
  
"Seriously? I am not staying in the room tonight. Even if all you two do is talk," he said. Dean shoved the key into his pocket, feeling the tips of his ears heat.  
  
"What do you mean 'even if'?" he demanded. "I'm a dude. He's a dude. We're not going to... do anything." And if Cas's sex wasn't actually one of Dean's hang-ups, Sam didn't need to know that.  
  
"I'm not stupid, Dean," Sam said. "I've noticed that you don't just check out the girls when we go to bars."  
  
Dean suddenly regretted leaving his jacket behind. He folded his arms and went back to staring at the sky, now picking out half-remembered constellations.  
  
Sam's feet crunched over the gravel as he stepped closer to Dean and laid a supportive hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I love women," Dean muttered unconvincingly. Sam chuckled dryly.  
  
"Even if you only liked women, I've seen the way you look at Cas. He'd be your exception," Sam said, dropping his hand. His tone was so matter-of-fact Dean almost wanted to punch him, but what he spoke was the truth.  
  
"It doesn't bother you?" he asked, looking at Sam. Sam shook his head.  
  
"Was a little weird when I first noticed it, but that was years ago." Before Hell, he didn't need to say. Dean understood and he chuckled lowly, half-proud of his little brother for being so observant and half-irritated Sam had never just took him aside and told him 'I know and I'm cool with it'.  
  
"Bitch," Dean said.  
  
"Jerk," Sam replied, smiling. "Talk to him, ok? And if you do anything else, I never want to hear about it."  
  
"What, you don't want the play-by-play?" Dean laughed. Sam's mouth twisted into one of his classic bitchfaces. Dean sobered up suddenly, a thought occurring to him. It was a worry he’d never really laid to rest and had managed not to think about tonight, but if there was going to be any kind of discussion between himself and Cas, he needed Sam to salt and burn it now so it wouldn’t linger. "Sammy, you and Cas were never together, right?"  
  
"'Toget-'," Sam spluttered. "You’re still hung up on that? No!"  
  
The denial was quick but not overly hasty, bewildered but not false. Dean relaxed.  
  
"Good. Wouldn't want him to forget which Winchester's name he's supposed to be screaming," he said, his smirk more confident than he actually felt. Sam shook his head.  
  
"I'll see you in the morning and I really, really don't want to hear your voice-"  
  
Dean opened his mouth.  
  
"-Or Cas's until then," Sam finished quickly, gritting his teeth. "I'm getting a room on the other side of the motel. On the top floor."  
  
"Might want to try the next county over," Dean said, winking theatrically.  
  
"Leaving now," Sam said. He headed for the lobby, tossing over his shoulder, "Everything will be fine, Dean." He was gone before Dean could respond.  
  
The older Winchester leaned more heavily on the trunk of the car, his cocky smirk fading. He looked up at the sky and let out a long, slow breath.  
  
His thoughts were chasing themselves in circles. The bond had been an accident, but he didn't want it gone and not only because apparently his mind was helping keep Cas out of a white wraparound jacket and a padded cell. There were so many things he should hate about this; the loss of privacy, the fact that Cas hadn’t told him, he could go on.  
  
But despite all of that, he still didn't want the bond gone.  
  
After all, when a guy pulls you out of Hell and cradles your soul in their hands, there wasn’t a whole lot of privacy there, either. Dean had picked up pretty quickly on how to build a wall in his head and fuck, Cas had seen him at his worst and at his best. He had little left to hide.  
  
Dean hadn't known what he had done, he hadn't meant to do it, but he'd been only mildly irritated about that when he had thought of the emotion-sharing as just some kind of weird quirk. Before he'd known it was basically marriage.  
  
Cas should have told him, he shouldn't have kept this from -- there were those circular thoughts again.  
  
Dean ran a hand over his face, dragging his palm over his eyes, nose, and chin.  
  
"Damn it," he muttered, getting off the trunk of the car and heading to the motel room. The only way to resolve any of this was to talk to Cas.  
  
Maybe if he did, he could figure out where to go from here.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel still sat on the bed, his legs hanging over the side of the mattress and his feet planted firmly on the floor. Lucifer sat next to him, one foot on the carpet and the other bent beneath him.

"How do you think life will be with the bond blocked?" Lucifer asked him. "You've felt Dean twice now, how bright and warm his soul is. Can you really give that up, Cassie?"

The first time, carrying Dean out of Hell, had been a necessity of the job. The bond was a somewhat unexpected side effect, so blocking it was the will of Heaven and Castiel had not yet learned to question orders. Any regret he had experienced had been minimal at most.

The second time had mirrored the first, with Dean using the bond to pull Cas from his Hell-based hallucination. It wasn't quite the same, since Castiel hadn't been as deeply wound around and through Dean as he had been the first time, but he had gotten a taste of what it would be like to fully merge. That joining, the dropping of all mental barriers, would be the final consummation of their ‘marriage’.

He couldn't count the time in the sewers, as his own emotions had been spilling over out of control and most of what he received from Dean in return was pain.

"Or maybe he'll leave it open just a little, like he's doing now," Lucifer said. "Just enough that you can feel him, but he'll never let you touch because he doesn't want this with you. He never has, brother."

Castiel could picture it. Dean had called him 'family' once and there was nothing Dean would not do for family. Sam had nearly been driven insane by Lucifer and now that madness was inside Castiel's head; Dean would not abandon him to face it alone, not when he knew that he could help.

"But he already abandoned you once, didn't he? He left you with me," Lucifer singsonged quietly. Castiel had no answer for that.

Cas heard the sound of a key turning in the lock and he turned to see Dean pushing the door open. The hunter paused, noticing the attention, then came in and shut the door. Castiel was tempted to follow the gold line connecting his mind to Dean's, but he didn't want to invade the other man's privacy any more than he had already.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said. Dean rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and returned the greeting with a muttered 'hey'. The silence between them was awkward and strained, and finally Dean breathed out and went to sit on the other bed, facing Castiel.

"So. We're basically angel-married, it was an accident, and you're using the direct line to my head to keep Satan out. That sound about right so far?" Dean asked. Castiel couldn't read his tone, though the vague sense of Dean's emotions coming to him through the bond did not paint a positive picture. He couldn't help picking up on some echoes, even if he stopped himself from investigating the specifics.

"Yes," Cas said. He prepared himself for whatever would come out of Dean's mouth next; most likely a 'we'll keep it like this until we find you another way of grounding yourself', though a 'we're dumping you in the nearest asylum and blocking the bond off entirely' would not be any less than Cas deserved.

"That's right," Lucifer said. "He'd be right to leave you to me and you know it."

"I am aware that this is not something you wanted-" Cas began.

"No, it wasn't," Dean replied shortly. That stung. Dean ran a palm over his face. "Just... damn it, Cas, why didn't you tell me?" There was hurt coming from Dean's side of the bond and Castiel wished there was some way he could make it stop.

"The formation of the bond was unavoidable," Cas hedged. Dean held up a hand and waited until Castiel heeded his request for silence before speaking.

"I'm not talking about the ‘formation’," he said. "I'm talking about the whole…” He waved his hand expressively. “After we got you out of Crowley’s dungeon. You never even mentioned it and then, all of a sudden, I end up married to you.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "We could have figured out a way to keep you grounded."

"Without having to tie him to you," Lucifer said, completing Dean's thought. He shot a knowing look at Castiel, but said no more.

"What could we have tried that I haven’t already attempted, Dean?" Cas asked. "I’m sorry for not telling you, but I needed some way to keep myself sane. I had nothing to keep me grounded except the bond.”

The words came out a bit more strongly than Castiel had meant, the emphasis on ‘nothing’ almost venomous. He hadn’t meant it as an accusation, he really hadn’t, but his connection to Dean had literally been the only thread his sanity could cling to.

The silence stretched.

"I called every day," Dean admitted softly. He cleared his throat. "To check on you, see if you had woken up. Meg always told me you were still out of it."

"I was only unresponsive for two weeks," Castiel told him. Dean's expression clouded over and Cas felt the human's anger as though it were his own. Dean shoved himself off the bed and stood, pacing like a caged predator and clenching his hands into fists.

"Dean, you didn't know," Castiel said.

"I should have," Dean snapped back. "If I had been there, Crowley wouldn't have gotten anywhere near you with those freaky angel-cuffs. None of this would have happened!"

"And by 'this', he means your bonding," Lucifer said. Castiel gritted his teeth and looked away from Dean.

"I am aware that you did not ask for this, Dean. I didn't either." This wasn't something Castiel would have thought to ask for, he had been so certain that it would never be granted. Given all the emotions pouring into him through Dean's side of the bond, coupled with Lucifer's whispers in his ear, Cas almost wished that he had never been allowed to touch Dean's soul. If he had never experienced the warmth, maybe blocking the connection off would hurt less.

And it would be blocked. What other outcome was there?

There was a flash of hurt and uncertainty and Castiel frowned. Did he dare reach out to try and find the source of Dean's emotions? He had no desire to push, especially if there was any chance of Dean leaving their connection open. Dean was very private; any prying on Castiel's part might cause Dean to shut the bond down entirely.

"Fine, but you're stuck with me because right now, I'm all that's keeping Lucifer out of your head," Dean snapped.

"I never said that I didn't want this, Dean. Just that I wouldn't have asked for it," Castiel said. He had no idea what had possessed him to be so brave; perhaps it was the strain in Dean's voice, or the hurt Castiel could still vaguely sense. Dean tensed.

"That was a mistake, brother," Lucifer said, mock-sadly.

"You want this, Cas?" Dean asked, voice flat and careful. Castiel wanted to reach out and try to sense what answer Dean wanted; he could back down now, explain his words away and that might be safer.

"Yes," he answered instead. "Despite the less than ideal circumstances."

Dean inhaled sharply and Cas felt the hunter's defenses drop. A mix of tentative hope, fear, and uncertainty hung in the air between them, but Dean's steps were confident as he approached Castiel. Dean stopped less than two feet away.

"What if circumstances were ideal?" he asked, voice almost accusatory but without any real heat. "Would it still have been me?"

There was a vulnerability in Dean's voice, a trace so faint Castiel never would have heard it without his direct line to Dean's emotions. It was a weak spot Cas had glimpsed on a few occasions, never for long, but one that ran all the way through Dean's emotional armor.

"Yes," Castiel said.

"Not Sam?" Dean asked, the question immediately followed by a wave of possession and guilt. Castiel was so fascinated that he almost forgot to answer.

"Sam is important to me," he said. At first, Sam had just been the abomination related to Dean, but things had changed greatly since that first meeting. Sam was, at the very least, a friend. If he was allowed, Castiel might even call him 'brother', but the affection he held for Sam was very different than what he had for Dean. "But there is no one I would rather have been bound to, Dean."

"He doesn't want you, Cassie. You're putting yourself out there for nothing and he's going to crush you," Lucifer said. "Poor little thing you are, you won't even blame him for it, will you?"

Castiel tensed and looked away from Dean, missing the human's sudden, concerned frown.

"My preferences are not of import," Cas said. "You had no idea what you were doing when you dove into my head to pull me out. You did not know the consequences. If you want the bond to be closed off, then that is what we will do."

"I don't," Dean said instantly. Castiel felt a moment of hope, warm and bright, before it was dashed by the invisible third party in the room.

"Because he's noble," Lucifer said. "Heaven's Righteous Man. He won't leave you alone with me when he's already made the mistake once." Lucifer's expression was somewhere between a pout and a sneer. "Pity. You're more fun when you don't know up from down."

"You don't need to protect me, Dean," Castiel said firmly, irritation pricking along his skin. "I will find a way to handle Lucifer on my own. That should not be the reason you agree to this."

"I never said anything about-" Dean started to snap, but then he stopped abruptly, stunned. "You're not still seeing him, are you? I thought the reason you did this-" He motioned to his head. "-was so that you wouldn't hallucinate. Stay grounded, or whatever."

"It helps, but it's not a perfect solution," Cas replied. "The connection, as it stands, can get rid of Lucifer only while it is fully open.”

"Damn it, Cas, you told us you were fine!" Dean was furious again and Cas felt his own ire rising in kind. "We thought you were using your Grace or something so that you never saw him unless you used up all your mojo. Have you been seeing him this whole time?"

"I'm not a child, Dean," Cas snapped back. "I am as well as can be expected. What would you have done if I had told you that I was still seeing Lucifer?"

"I don't know, all right?" Dean said.

"He would have left you at the nearest asylum," Lucifer whispered to Castiel. "To protect himself and Sam from the insane angel."

Castiel wasn't sure what his emotions were doing, but there was fear, loss, and resignation mixed in. Dean looked stricken for a moment, then he squared his jaw and tentative reassurance was washing away the negativity.

"We would have found something. We're not going to leave you behind again, Cas, I promise," Dean said. He paused for a second. "You're seeing him now, aren't you?"

"He would be if he turned around," Lucifer offered helpfully, waving at Dean as though the human could actually see him.

"I am," Castiel said. Dean scowled and the barrier between them relaxed almost completely, though there was a distinct tinge of discomfort.

"Do whatever you have to," Dean said gruffly. "This is between you and me. I don't want the Devil listening in."

Castiel reached for the bond gratefully, allowing Dean's feelings to wash over him. Lucifer flickered, made a noise of protest, and then Castiel was alone on the bed. The bond pulsed around him, golden and warm, and he relaxed into it.

"Is he gone?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded, allowing some of his own feelings to bleed over into Dean. He kept the true depth of his affection to himself, but let Dean feel everything else. Dean's eyes widened in surprise and Castiel felt something within the human uncurl, like a once-abused feline stretching up for a gentle hand to pet it.

"I know this is temporary," Cas said. "But thank you.” There was no way that they could keep the connection open all the time; it was distracting enough right now, in a safe motel room, and the world outside was much more dangerous.

"Is there any way to get rid of him permanently?" Dean asked, taking up his pacing once more. "We can't keep this up forever."

Castiel hesitated a moment. Dean sensed it and mentally prodded him.

“When I attempted to make a Cage for the hallucination, I failed because I lacked sufficient power or an anchor,” Cas explained. He paused again. “If we fully complete the bond, I would have both.”

“Complete the bond?” Dean asked incredulously. “Dude, we’re married. How much more ‘complete’ can this thing get?”

“Consummation,” Castiel said shortly. “Consummation is the final stage, after which the bond cannot be broken. It can still be blocked, but severing it is no longer an option.” He took a deep breath. “Completing the bond means that our essences would touch and mix; there would be no privacy for either of us during the process. From then on, we would always be connected, even when one of us is shielding.”

Dean didn’t respond for a moment, flabbergasted. Then, surprisingly, he laughed. He sounded faintly hysterical and Castiel winced.

"'Consummation'?" Dean echoed, waggling his eyebrows comically to cover up his nerves. "Is that what it sounds like? Because it sounds like freaky angel sex to me."

Dean’s emotions were an odd mix of discomfort, fear, hope, and lust. The angel stared, somewhat stunned by the last. His own amazement must have transferred over, because Dean's expression shut down. The bond wavered but did not close, though the human’s emotions receded.

“How would that work, exactly?” Dean asked gruffly. “Your… whatever and my soul bad-touch and you get a power boost?”

“Human souls are very powerful, Dean. Especially one such as yours,” Castiel said seriously, watching Dean without a trace of embarrassment. Dean ducked his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I would be able to siphon off some of the energy through our bond and I would have a constant tether to reality. Creating a Cage would be simple.”

Dean glanced back up, lips set in a smile that looked like it would rather be a frown.

“Power up using me like you did with Bobby, that time Sam and I were stuck in the Old West?” he asked. His voice stumbled a bit over the name, but Cas felt little of the accompanying pang of grief. “Did you have freaky angel sex with him, too?”

“I did not have… ‘freaky angel sex’ with Bobby,” Cas said. “I just touched his soul; he did not reach into my Grace. The contact was superficial.” Castiel paused. “And the Cage would likely require me to constantly siphon off a small amount of your energy.”

“Constantly?” Dean echoed uneasily. Castiel shook his head.

“It would not hurt, though you might feel a little drained until you become accustomed to it,” he said. “And I would not need access to your thoughts at all times. We could put a wall up afterwards and it wouldn’t affect the Cage.”

Dean looked down again.

“This whole ‘no-privacy’ thing… that’s not permanent? You’re not going to constantly have a free show to what’s going on in my head?” he asked.

“No,” Castiel replied. “Consummation just means that the path will always be there. I do not need to travel down it. With a wall in place, I would not be able to feel your emotions.”

Dean was quiet for several moments. He had taken up pacing again, keeping his eyes down and not looking at the angel.

"You keep on saying 'consummation'," he said. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"You compared our bond to a marriage earlier," Castiel said. He could have let the sentence stand on its own because he could distantly feel Dean's slow comprehension, but he continued speaking. "It used to be that a marriage was not considered valid until the groom had engaged in sexual congress with his bride. This would be similar."

"So it is freaky angel sex," Dean said, looking up. "Dude, I was joking..."

"It's not sex as you know it, though that can be a part of it if you wish," Cas said quietly. He had no objections about making their union physical as well as spiritual, but he was uncertain if Dean would want that. He knew that Dean appreciated the attention of males, though less frequently than females, but all of Dean's lasting sexual relationships had been exclusively with women. Castiel carefully held his jealousy at the thought away from Dean and kept a tight rein on his desire. "But if you'd prefer, it could be a..." He frowned, mentally groping for the term that would best describe their arrangement. "A marriage of convenience. Our souls would join, but not our bodies."

Castiel could feel the gears turning in Dean's head, lust warring with apprehension warring with shock. He waited. Dean eventually cleared his throat.

"You still haven't explained how it works," he said, voice giving nothing away.

"Nothing would be hidden. We'd tear down any barriers remaining between your mind and mine-" Castiel stopped, sensing Dean's sudden fear.

"So, basically, instead of our bodies getting naked, it'd be our souls and they'd be doing it with the lights on," Dean rasped. Castiel frowned.

"I do not understand that reference," he said. Dean chuckled hollowly.

"Yeah, you wouldn't, would you?" he asked rhetorically. Silence fell between them once more and Castiel could feel it as Dean cycled through fear, worry, desire, and uncertainty.

"We don't need to consummate the bond, Dean," Cas said. "It is an option, but if the idea makes you that uncomfortable-"

"It doesn't," Dean snapped. Castiel scowled, waves of his doubt pouring back over the bond and Dean mirrored the angel's expression. "Fine. It does. But if this will get Lucifer out of your head-"

"It won't, it will simply trap him so that he no longer affects me," Castiel replied. "And you shouldn't agree to this only to stop my hallucinations. I had an idea of what I was getting in to when I took the madness from Sam. If the only repentance I need to make is seeing Lucifer on occasion, then I can bear-"

"You don't deserve this either, Cas," Dean interjected. "No one deserves it and I can help, I just need to fucking get used to the concept, all right?"

Castiel went quiet for a moment, studying Dean. Dean refused to meet his eyes and shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck.

"I do not want you to do this out of a sense of duty," Castiel said firmly."You don't owe me this, Dean."

"How the fuck can you say that?" Dean snapped, stomping over to Castiel and looming over him. Anger radiated from him, from the set of his eyebrows to the clench of his hands, and Castiel was momentarily thrown off balance. What had he said that had set Dean off? "Everything you've sacrificed, everything you've done for me, for Sam, hell, for the whole world, and I don't owe it to you to fix you if I can? Especially when all I'd need to do is-"

"Do not trivialize this," Cas hissed. Dean shut up abruptly. "Everything I did, I did for you." Dean made as if to speak, but Castiel raised his voice slightly and kept going. "I never expected anything in return."

"... you asked me to listen, once. To stand behind you," Dean said tightly. "I didn't."

Regret rose between them, fed from both sides of the bond. Castiel looked away.

"We both made a lot of mistakes," he acknowledged. "I went to Crowley because I thought I owed it to you to let you live a normal life. Do not repeat my mistakes, Dean."

"Hey, I'm not making a deal with a demon," Dean said, striving for a lighter tone. Cas shot him an irritated look.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Yeah, I do," Dean said. He seemed tired and he sat heavily on the bed next to Castiel. The emotions coming off of him were too conflicted for Castiel to parse, so he simply let them wash over him and keep the Devil at bay. "Look, I..." He paused and took a deep breath. "It wouldn't just be because we owe you. Because I owe you. It's not." He ran a hand through his hair. "Damnit."

"Do you truly understand what you're agreeing to, Dean?" Castiel asked, turning fully towards him. "Once we do this-"

"It can't be undone. I get it," Dean said. He smiled thinly. "You saw my soul when you dragged me out of the Pit. You put me back together. This can't be any worse than that."

Castiel might have felt hurt if he couldn't sense that Dean's attitude stemmed from his apprehension. He nodded. Dean breathed in deeply, steeling himself.

"All right, let's do this," he said. Five words, delivered so flippantly, yet they changed everything.

Cas would have asked Dean again if he was certain, if he truly understood, but he didn’t want to patronize him. Or worse, convince him to change his mind.

"Very well," Castiel said, wondering if he dared reach out physically to Dean. The hunter had made no move to touch him nor had he indicated that he wanted their joining to be in body as well as in spirit, despite his initial lust at the idea of 'freaky angel sex'. Castiel compromised, reaching out with both hands to cup Dean's face. "Close your eyes."

Dean's next breath in was shaky, but he did as he was told. Castiel kept his own eyes open and he reached for Dean with his Grace.

Dean wasn't sure what he had expected from bonding his soul irrevocably to Cas. For the first few minutes, it was oddly anticlimactic.

He had half-hoped that the touching and the deep-voiced 'close your eyes' had been the prelude to a kiss, but there was no sudden invasion of his space. Well, none more so than usual. Dean felt a stab of disappointment, but tried to push it down. It was fine if Cas didn't want to kiss him. Totally fine.

Dean wasn't going to make having sex with him one of Castiel's duties. If they went there, it would be because they both wanted to and not just 'if you wish'.

The next sensation was one he half-remembered, both from the sewers and from diving back in to drag Cas out. He’d been in too much pain the first time to remember much and too worried the second time to really take note of the sensations.

It was like being submerged in warm, breathable water; Dean still felt the urge to panic and try to rise above the surface, but Castiel sent waves of reassurance. Dean wouldn't drown, as long as he trusted Cas. Dean did, but he was still human and underwater and-

He breathed in deeply, striving for calm.

"I need you to let me in, Dean," Castiel said. Warm puffs of air passed over Dean's lips. Dean shivered. "I can't do this unless you relax."

Dean chuckled, more hysteria than humor.

"Buddy, we need to get you some better porn," he said. He could feel Castiel's confusion and he tried to let it in, dropping his defenses and fumbling along the line of Castiel's emotions to find the source. Dean felt himself make contact with something and he had a brief moment of 'yeah, found it' before he was completely overwhelmed.

Castiel touching him had been like sliding into a warm bath. The surface had been just a foot or so above his head. This was like having several tons of weight strapped to his neck and then being thrown into the deepest, warmest part of the ocean. Before he even realized what was happening, he was in too deep and still sinking.

Then Castiel's emotions hit him. At once, Dean could feel the angel's awe, his joy, his guilt, and his determination. As he was falling deeper into Cas, he could feel the angel diving deeper into him. Cas was experiencing Dean's fear and his stubbornness, his uncertainty and his satisfaction.

Then he reached the mark Hell had left on Dean.

Dean felt suddenly chilled as Castiel went through the memories of a time when Dean had been his weakest and most desperate. Dean could once again taste the shame and the blood on his tongue, his horror and his sick joy at being the one off the rack and the guilt that still swamped him if he dwelled too much on what he had become in the Pit.

Castiel paused, examining the darkness carefully. Dean tried to usher him along, not wanting Cas to look too closely at what he himself refused to face, but Castiel didn't budge. The angel traced each mental scar with what felt like pure light and the glow seeped into the cracks, soothing them and filling them in as though Dean's soul was a wall and all gouges could be fixed with enough spackle.

The light spread, the different scars connecting to form a net over the darkness and then sinking into it. The net suddenly exploded and Dean gasped, short of breath, as all of Hell was illuminated for a split second and then obscured by the white light. It flashed only for an instant, but for that moment all Dean knew was peace. The light seemed to take his burdens with it and he was suspended in the space between heartbeats, like drifting in zero-gravity.

When the glow faded and memories of the Pit eased back in, like particularly stubborn mold showing through a new coat of paint, it wasn't as dark as before. The full heft of the memories didn't return, even if Dean didn't feel as weightless as he had during the light show.

"... the hell did you do?" Dean breathed, not opening his eyes.

"I made your burdens a little bit lighter," Castiel replied. He seemed even closer now than he had been when they had started, though Dean wasn't sure if that was just the intimacy of the moment. Dean wanted to ask more, but his voice caught in his throat. Cas was still going further, aiming for the very heart of what made Dean Dean. The angel was heading directly for the place where Dean had buried his resentment of his father, the terror that those he loved would always leave him, the belief that he wasn't good enough to keep anyone, and, most powerful of all, the love he had for everyone he considered family. Sam, Bobby, his dad, and his mom were all there in a mix of protectiveness, respect, grief, longing, and endless amounts of affection. Ellen, Jo, Lisa, and Ben all had a presence there too, though with a great deal more guilt.

And then there was Cas.

Cas didn't fit in any category. He wasn't Sam or Bobby and he wasn't Lisa or Ellen either. Castiel was in a category all his own, bound up in so many emotions and so many things Dean tried not to think about. Respect, possessiveness, yearning, resignation, lust, affection, guilt. Traces of other things Dean had no names for, adding up to something he hadn't dared to label. He felt Castiel go unnaturally still as Cas realized exactly what Dean's emotions meant.

Dean threw himself into sinking into the rest of Castiel's emotions. He saw the murder of angels through Castiel's eyes, the sorrow and the guilt that came with each new kill until sorrow was numb and guilt had multiplied so much the exact amount no longer mattered. He felt the strain of the war in Heaven, the conviction that he was doing right, and the gut-tearing pain of betrayal and loss as Cas walked into a ring of holy fire.

He saw himself raking leaves and the scene was permeated with the sense that this was what he was protecting. The Earth, for Dean. By himself, so Dean could have a normal life. With Crowley, so he stood a chance of coming back to Dean even if he never showed himself to the human again. DeanDeanDean.

Cas tried to gently steer him away from the recollections, but Dean clung to them, determined to see them through. It was like listening to a list of his own sins, every time he had ignored or used Cas while the angel was struggling with something much bigger and badder than he was. Guilt surrounded Dean and for a moment he thought it was his own, but then he realized that Cas was the source. Dean's own stomach churned with both the emotion and the realization and he gathered up Castiel's guilt over the episode and poured his understanding into it, trying to imagine his emotions as the same white light that had briefly blocked out Hell for him.

Dean got it now. He understood.

He felt Castiel's wonder as the guilt shrank and faded, but just like the scars Dean still carried, it didn't disappear entirely. Dean let it go.

He hit bottom.

Quite suddenly, all that made up Castiel was everywhere around Dean, surrounding him completely and drowning him in intensity. The sensations were overwhelming and Dean couldn't even identify the emotions swirling around him, too caught up in the sheer force of them to note the flavor. It really was like being miles beneath the ocean's surface and the pressure was crushing him.

"Dean, breathe."

Dean gulped for air, reaching out for Cas. He didn't realize he was doing it physically as well as mentally until he grabbed real shoulders and dug his fingers into the material of Castiel's borrowed Tshirt. The world stabilized around him and he was no longer being smothered, though he was still miles beneath the ocean surface. Castiel slowly put his hands on Dean's waist, holding him steady.

Dean suddenly understood what the emotions were that surrounded him. Castiel's core was made up of peace, love, and stubbornness. Dean almost choked on his laughter. The tranquility was strange and had more than a few traces of unrest, but it was like seeing where a centuries-old coral reef had been damaged and watching new growth fill in the breaks. The new coral fit but fundamentally changed the reef. The love was unlike any Dean had ever felt, distant and almost cold. There was the respect and awe of God mixed in there, the fascination and love for humanity as a whole, and the angel’s love for his brothers. The last was similar to how a human might care for a cousin they rarely saw.

The stubbornness was pure Castiel, determination that Dean knew was twin to his own. He ignored the stab of his own disappointment when he found nothing else here, at the place where everything that made up the angel's foundations hid. There was no trace of himself or Sam or Bobby, nor any of the other angels Dean had thought Cas was close to. If not for the hints of unrest and the stubbornness, this could be the core of any angel.

There was no trace of Jimmy anywhere in this ocean. Somehow, Dean knew he’d sense it if there was. He briefly wondered what had happened to the man that had given up his body to an angel, then just as quickly decided that he didn’t want to know.

A part of him, larger than Dean would like to admit, was relieved that Cas was alone in his body. Well, alone except for the madness.

If anything happened, Dean wouldn’t need to feel guilty about what Jimmy would think.

"Is this it, then?" Dean asked, eyes still closed. His voice didn't shake and he congratulated himself.

"No. There are still some things you need to see," Castiel said gently. Dean felt the emotions around him shift, like the current brushing away some of the sandy floor to reveal a treasure chest. Dean felt abruptly warmer and he furrowed his eyebrows, cautiously following the sensation. At the end of the line, he found feelings as familiar to him as the tranquility and love had been alien and he breathed in sharply.

Here was everything Dean had thought was missing. Here was what differentiated Cas from Castiel, Angel of the Lord. Dean was hit by waves of warm affection, camaraderie, trust, and respect. Balthazar. Sam. Bobby. Himself.

The emotions themselves seemed to react to Dean's presence, wrapping around him and drawing him in, down, to another level he hadn't even realized existed. He gasped a little as he realized that what he had taken as Castiel's heart had simply been covering the real bottom layer. Castiel's feelings for his adopted family were like a gateway, a fissure in the bottom of the ocean leading directly to the world’s core.

There were still elements of his angelic nature, but rather than 'family' being relegated to a small area, the two were equal and entwined perfectly. Most overwhelming, though, was an emotion both like and unlike anything Dean had ever felt before.

The emotion was protectiveness and possessiveness and affection and secrecy and want, all balled up together. It was endless and powerful and frightening, but somehow comforting and steady as well. Dean could trust this to be there forever; he got the distinct impression that not even Death himself would be able to destroy it.

And it was all DeanDeanDean.

It glowed golden and then the light was surrounding Dean and cradled him, then sunk into him. The connection between Dean and Castiel suddenly sharpened, like a somewhat fuzzy picture going into high-definition. Dean was no longer just Dean, he was DeanandCas and he could feel his hands on his arms, his hands on his waist, his love, his grief, his lust. There was no separation between Dean and Castiel and their emotions pooled and mixed, outer layers and inner layers and then, finally, the core of what made each of them up touched and melded. Dean lost track of the little bit of mixed-up physical reality he had been holding on to.

They could have stayed like that for hours or minutes and neither would have been able to tell. There was nothing except for the combination of them, what they felt, what drove them, how they felt for one another.

Finally, the cocoon of the bond slowly unraveled and Dean and Castiel slowly separated into their own bodies. Dean became aware of his hands still gripping Cas's shoulders and Castiel's hands on Dean's hips. Dean was breathing heavily and his body shook. His only consolation that Cas was also faintly trembling, like he hadn't quite expected the intensity of the experience either.

"That's how I make you feel?" Dean croaked, recalling what he had found in the deepest part of Castiel. It had been frightening and overpowering, to see exactly how much he meant to a freakin' Angel of the Lord, and it made what Dean had kept hidden in his own heart pale in comparison.

Sensing the thought, Castiel suddenly clutched Dean's emotions tightly to himself as though protecting them from Dean's sense of unworthiness. Castiel held Dean's feelings like they were the most precious things in the world and Dean had the shocking realization that, to Castiel, they might very well be. Dean thought it was rather like comparing shards of broken glass to a flawless, fist-sized diamond, but because the glass shards were Dean's, Castiel was more than prepared to trade.

"Do not belittle yourself, Dean," Castiel said, voice an odd mix of soothing and warning. "Your feelings for me are no less powerful than what I feel for you. No two beings experience love the same way."

"Cas, I'm not-" Dean said, but the words caught in his throat. Even now, when he knew Cas could still feel everything he was feeling, he couldn't say the words. Castiel moved in closer, both physically and mentally, and placed one hand on the back of Dean's neck.

"You are worth everything I have done for you, Dean Winchester," he said, and pulled Dean in for a kiss. Dean went with it, nervous anticipation prickling his skin rather than surprise. The technique was rough, unpolished, but Dean could taste the underlying tenderness on his tongue. There was passion too, boiling inside Castiel and Dean chased the flavor deeper into the angel's mouth. Castiel tilted his head and surged against Dean, all nerves and excitement and desire to match Dean's own.

Dean pulled away to breathe, leaning his forehead against Castiel's so they'd lose as little contact as possible. Arousal was thrumming through his veins and pooling low in his body and he could feel his state mirrored in Castiel. The angel didn't move, waiting to take his cue from Dean.

"Are we doing this?" Dean asked, more than half-certain of the answer. The bond was still unwinding slowly from their union and he frowned, burrowing deeper into Castiel's emotions. Cas knew what he was looking for and brought it to the surface, allowing his feelings for Dean to flood their mental landscape. Dean drank them in greedily. "Fuck yes, we're doing this."

Lust sparked in both men, running like fire over the bond and growing, returning to both to hit them tenfold. Dean gasped as pleasure ignited his body and Castiel captured his mouth again, nipping gently at his lower lip. The angel's hands slid up underneath Dean's shirt, running over the skin possessively before returning to the hem and trying to yank the shirt off.

Dean shifted his arms to help and then busied his hands with touching Castiel everywhere he could, slipping under the material of his shirt to rake his nails lightly over the soft skin. The angel dropped Dean’s off the side of the bed, radiating approval with a slightly wistful edge.

Dean paused. He swallowed heavily, feeling oddly nervous as he reached inside of himself for all the things he kept buried. He took a deep breath and brought them to the forefront of his mind, just as Castiel had done, and shoved the whole mess quickly across the bond to the angel.

Castiel inhaled sharply.

"Dean," he said, voice reverent and totally wrecked, and Dean would give anything to hear his name said just like that, in that voice, a thousand times more.

"Yeah, I know," Dean said, pressing his mouth to the bared flesh of Castiel's throat. He kissed and mouthed at the skin, nibbling lightly at a particularly delectable patch and then laving the mark with his tongue. He pulled the hem of Cas’s shirt up. “Let’s get this off.”

Cas leaned back and lifted his arms, allowed Dean to pull off the garment. The angel immediately tugged Dean back in for a kiss and moved forward, climbing partially into Dean’s lap. 

Dean could sense Castiel's inexperience in every slow touch, not exactly hesitant but not confident either, like he had been handed a manual saying 'this is how you do sex' and he was trying to follow it step by step. Or maybe he was just going off of what he had observed of humanity.

His hands wandered up and down Dean's chest in some kind of pattern, body arching against Dean and his erection pressing against Dean's abdomen through his pants. Dean's cock was rubbing against Castiel's ass and he groaned, rolling his hips into the contact.

Castiel began nipping and sucking on Dean's neck, high enough that no popped collar would cover it.

"That'll bruise," he warned Cas, hissing at one particularly vicious nip before tilting his head to allow the angel more access. Dean slid his hands low on Castiel's body, cupping his ass and using the hold to pull him even closer.

"I want it to," Castiel said, voice thick with arousal as he rocked against Dean. He made a tiny, pleased noise in the back of his throat at the friction. "And the idea doesn't displease you."

Dean was positively radiating lust, so he had to admit the angel was right. Castiel's right hand moved to grip Dean's left shoulder and he squeezed, fingers digging in exactly where Dean's burn scar used to be. Dean swallowed thickly, experiencing Castiel's sense of loss as if it were his own.

"Bruise is a little less permanent than a burn," Dean said. He kissed Cas softly, but with his mouth open and tongue sliding along the inside of Castiel's lips. Cas responded eagerly, taking control of it and licking into Dean's mouth. Dean's voice was breathy when he spoke next. "You'll need to make a new one every time it heals."

"I intend to," Castiel said, putting to rest any fears Dean might've had about the physical part of bonding being a one time thing brought on by the heat of the moment.

Dean set his hands to work getting Castiel's pants open, first pulling the belt free and then the button and zipper. Castiel moaned at the sudden freedom, his cock distending the front of his underwear. Dean slipped a hand inside the loosened jeans, stroking the hard flesh and pressing light kisses to the angel's face as he bucked into the touch.

"How far do you want to go?" Dean asked, rocking his hips into Castiel's ass in time to the strokes of his hand. Castiel tried to match his rhythm, though his body jerked more erratically as pleasure overtook his senses.

"I want everything, Dean," Castiel said. Dean shuddered at the sound, seeing himself on his back in bed, knees pressed to his chest and Castiel in between, fucking him open in long, slow strokes. Or on his elbows and knees, Cas bent over his back and pressing soft kisses to every available patch of skin, bodies moving in concert. Or maybe it would be Cas on his back, legs bent for support as Dean slowly sank down onto his cock-

It took Dean a moment to realize that those weren't his fantasies. He was hard and leaking, precome dampening his underwear, and his hand had stopped moving.

"Is that what you want?" Dean asked, feeling his arousal ratchet up another notch. He rarely fucked men and when he did, he never bottomed. The idea had simply never appealed to him, but here, now... fuck.

"Yes," Castiel said, nearly attacking Dean's mouth. "Yes."

Dean tore his hands away from Castiel's body and began quickly unbuttoning his own pants. He groaned into the kiss as his cock was freed from the confines of the denim.

"We need to be a lot more naked, then," he said, giving tacit permission. He ushered Castiel off of his lap, both reluctant to part but knowing the necessity. Dean shucked his jeans, this time groaning in frustration as he realized he still had his shoes on. His fingers trembled with excitement as he tugged at the laces, making the task slow and difficult. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cas mimicking his movements, in much the same state as Dean. After a minute, sixty too-long seconds, Dean had both of his shoes off, as well as his socks. He kicked off his jeans and boxers and turned back to Castiel, now completely naked.

Cas was just removing the last of his clothing. 

Miles of bare skin were on display, more being revealed by the second and Dean couldn't look away. His eyes traced the curve of Castiel's backside, the planes of the angel's chest he hadn't taken the time to appreciate properly when he had first undressed Cas, and the erection hanging red and thick between Castiel's thighs. His mouth went dry and his cock twitched with interest.

He scooted closer to Cas, ending up partially behind the angel on the bed and pressing kisses to his shoulder blade, his shoulder, the base and nape of his neck. Cas seemed so small like this; naked, hard and aching, and wanting Dean. An Angel of the Lord, complete with wings and the ability to smite just about anything, reduced to a trembling mass of need because of him.

Dean kissed up the side of Castiel's neck, bringing his hand slowly around Cas's hip to wrap around his cock. Cas grunted, his pleasure spiking through to Dean, and arched his hips into the touch. He leaned back against Dean, moaning quietly as Dean stroked him. Dean rested his head on Castiel's shoulder, looking down along the line of Cas's body to where his hand pulled along sensitive flesh. There was a faint flush to Castiel's pale skin, his chest heaving with breaths he didn't actually need.

"Fuck, Cas, you're beautiful like this," Dean said. They were words he'd used before in similar scenarios, but they felt different leaving his tongue this time around. They seemed more and less honest, somehow; more, because he had never seen a sight that affected him the way this did, his hand sliding wetly over Castiel's cock as the angel trembled with foreign sensations, and less because this was not what Cas really looked like. Dean was holding and touching and kissing a vessel, albeit one that was empty except for Castiel. It wasn't actually his angel.

Dean wondered what it would be like to do this with the real Castiel, if that was even possible outside of in their heads. Would the bond let him see and hear the real Castiel without his eyeballs burning out or his eardrums exploding? Would he be able to touch Cas's real form, the wave of celestial whatever, without getting incinerated?

What would it be like to be in bed with something that powerful?

Dean groaned at the thought. Hell, he hadn't even known that was a turn-on for him. He already knew he loved it when his partners took charge and showed him how much and where they wanted him, but that wasn't quite on the same level as fantasizing about fucking something that could smite him with barely a thought.

Dean moved his free hand to his heretofore neglected cock and began stroking himself in time to the motions of his hand on Castiel. He could come just like this and he wouldn't regret a thing.

"Dean," Castiel moaned. Cas turned his head, lips brushing against Dean's cheek when he spoke. "Dean."

There was a sudden outpouring of love, desire, and wonder from Castiel and Dean stilled, trembling with the force of it.

"How much of that did you see?" he asked, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Castiel's lips.

"Everything." A hint of regret colored the bond for a moment. "What you want... it's not possible, Dean. I have no physical body in my true form."

"Yeah, I figured," Dean said. He felt faintly disappointed, but he quelled it by recalling just how good consummating the bond had felt. It hadn't been physical pleasure, but something entirely different and peaceful and if they could do that again-

Cas turned in Dean's hold, capturing Dean's mouth and running his hands over Dean's chest. Waves of affection and joy and desire for something far less earthly than sex hit Dean and he groaned, allowing Cas to gently push him onto his back in the bed. Cas was still kissing him, hot and wet and goddamnit, there was no way he could be this good just from watching porn.

"That, we can do over and over again," Cas said into Dean's mouth, answering the human's unspoken question about the joining of their minds. "But Dean, this body is just as much mine as it was Jimmy's. For all intents and purposes, this is what I look like when I'm on Earth. There is no shame in wanting me like this."

Dean kissed him again. He usually didn't enjoy kissing quite this much; usually kisses were just the prelude to hot and sweaty satisfaction and they never meant quite as much before as they did now. He lifted his hips and pressed his body against Castiel's, moaning softly when Cas ground down against him.

He wasn't going to last much longer, not when he was experiencing not only his own pleasure, but Castiel's as well. Time to move on.

"We need lube," Dean said, breaking the kiss. "I've got some in my bag, just let me - fuck."

Cas had slipped an arm in-between their bodies and was running an exploratory hand over Dean's leaking cock and his scrotum. Dean's hips jerked into the touches, hints of Castiel's satisfaction and arousal sparking through his brain. Cas moved his hand back, dragging his fingers lightly over the sensitive skin behind Dean's sac, leading into the cleft of his ass. Dean involuntarily tensed as he felt the tips of those fingers brush the entrance to his body, not pressing into the ring of muscle but just circling it carefully. Cas stilled when he felt Dean's unease and Dean shut his eyes, as if that would somehow prevent him from having to feel Cas's confusion.

"Get off for a second. Let me get the lube," Dean said, reaching down and squeezing Castiel's hip lightly in an attempt to be reassuring. Cas nodded and rolled off of Dean, still projecting uncertainty and lust slightly tempered by Dean's own mixed feelings. Dean got off of the bed and walked quickly over to his duffle bag, unzipping the side pocket to get at the small bottle of lubricant he kept in there. He could feel Castiel's eyes on him the whole way. He briefly debated grabbing condoms as well, but he was clean and Cas was a freaking Angel of the Lord; he doubted he needed to worry about STDs and the fact that they were both male kept pregnancy from being a worry.

"Dean," Cas said, just as Dean turned back to the bed. "We don't need to do anything you don't want to."

Dean could tell he meant it, too. He could take the lube back to the bed, open Cas up and fuck him and Cas would enjoy it. Castiel wouldn't even mind the change; all he wanted was to be as close as physically possible to Dean. Just the thought of Cas on his back, sweaty and flushed and bucking into every thrust of Dean's hips was almost enough to undo him. Cas would be tight and hot and he'd have his first ever orgasm on Dean's cock...

Dean breathed deeply. If he allowed himself to fantasize about that possible chain of events, then the fun out be over before it really began.

He thought about the fantasies he had seen in Castiel's head, almost surprised when he realized that his reaction to them was just as strong as it had been earlier. He'd never been fucked before, hadn’t even realized it was something he wanted, but here, now, with Cas, it sounded like a fucking fantastic idea.

What would it be like to let Cas touch him where no one else had ever been allowed? Physically, not just emotionally?

"Dean?" Cas asked. Dean walked back to the bed, smirking to hide his trepidation. Castiel's eyes roamed over his body with undisguised desire and a near-reverence that would have taken Dean's breath away if he had let it. Dean climbed onto the mattress and swung one leg over Castiel's body, straddling his hips. Cas's hands came up automatically to steady him and Dean caught one, pressing the small tube into the angel's palm. Dean leaned over, kissing Castiel hungrily and hoping Cas couldn't taste his nervous excitement.

"Fuck me," he said against Castiel's mouth. He broke away to press kisses along Cas's stubble-covered jaw line and ground down against the erection he could feel against his ass. He was gratified when Cas breathed in sharply and bucked up into the friction. "I want you in me, Cas."

Cas grabbed the back of Dean's head and pulled him back for another wet kiss. When the kiss broke for air, Cas didn't ask in words if Dean was sure. He slid his hand off of Dean's neck and pushed Dean up a bit, gently, until Dean was kneeling over the angel. Cas scooted back a bit so that his thighs, rather than his hips, were in-between Dean's legs and he sat up as well.

He kissed Dean again, softly, and Dean shut his eyes as he heard the familiar snap of the lube bottle being opened. He spread his legs wider, leaning a bit of weight on Castiel's chest so he'd be close enough for Cas to get his slick fingers where he had to.

Dean could remember doing this to other guys, the initial tightness and the discomfort if the dude taking it was too tense. He relaxed and breathed deeply, waiting and wondering what it would feel like to be the one getting prepared for once.

Dean shivered as an arm slid around his waist and wet fingers ran along the curve of one of his buttcheeks to the cleft in between. He mouthed at Castiel's neck as the fingers slid along his entrance, stimulating the nerves and increasing both Dean's arousal and his trepidation. Cas didn't push his fingers into Dean, not yet, just touched him and stroked soothing patterns on his side with his other hand. It was a trick Dean had used sometimes; tease lightly, get his partner comfortable, then stretch him nice and slow.

Dean relaxed under the touches and then Cas concentrated on just around the ring of muscle leading into Dean's body. He pressed his fingers lightly against it, still not going in but on the verge. It was a silent request for permission, asking without words whether or not this was really what Dean wanted.

"Do it," Dean said, voice thick. His breathing stuttered in his chest when Cas complied, sticking just the tip of one of his fingers into Dean. Dean tensed and Cas immediately withdrew his hand, radiating uncertainty. Dean shook his head and Cas stopped, his hand resting on Dean's hip.

"Dean," he began, but Dean cut him off.

"I want this," he insisted, moving back to look Cas directly in the eye. He shifted a bit to get his arm out from between their bodies. He grabbed Castiel's hand and tugged it back to his ass, holding onto the back of it and trying to press one of the angel's fingers against his entrance. "I was just surprised, all right?"

"If you'd be more comfortable-" Cas started, but Dean shook his head again, more violently this time.

"Open me up, Cas," Dean said, pushing against their joined hands. "I want you to fingerfuck me and get me ready for you. I want you to stretch me open just enough so that, when I finally take your cock, I feel every inch of it inside me. It want it to hurt, I want to be feeling it for the next week."

The dirtytalk had the desired effect. If nothing else, it made Dean more confident, though doubts and nervousness still churned his stomach. Castiel's unease seemed to have vanished. The angel's pupils dilated and he pressed his finger into Dean once more. Dean breathed deeply and tried to stay relaxed, shifting a bit at the unfamiliar sensation. It didn't hurt, just felt very strange.

Castiel rotated his finger, caressing the sensitive inner walls of Dean's body. He drew his finger out a bit and pushed it back in, his knuckle brushing against the rim. Dean shuddered, spreading his legs a bit wider unconsciously. He was starting to see why some guys enjoyed this.

Cas pulled his finger out and then there were two sliding back into Dean. That did hurt a bit and Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's shoulder. The pain was nothing compared to injuries Dean had had before, but this was different.

Cas pressed butterfly kisses over whatever parts of Dean he could reach with his mouth, scissoring his fingers. He drew the digits out, keeping them spread so the tight ring of muscle would loosen, before plunging them back in.

"Fuck," Dean breathed. Cas repeated the action a few times, changing the angle of his hand and his fingers to drag over new skin. Dean was actually starting to feel empty every time the fingers slid out and damn, he hadn't known bottoming was like this. His hand had slid to Castiel's wrist at some point and dropped off completely when Cas pulled his fingers all the way out. Dean made a small noise in the back of his throat that he would deny was a protest, only to be soothed when Cas coated three of his fingers with lube and moved his hand back to Dean's ass. Cas slid all three in, shallowly at first, and there was the burn Dean had been expecting. This hurt a little more, even as gentle as Cas was trying to be, only the thread of tension and the bond between them cluing Dean in to his impatience.

Cas spread his fingers and withdrew them slightly, then pushed them back in a little deeper. Dean thighs were aching from holding him up and steady and the muscles of his abdomen were twitching from sensation overload. Cas thrust his fingers in deeper and brushed against that spot that had always driven Dean's few male partners crazy. Dean choked on air, not expecting the sudden surge of pure bliss. Cas's hand briefly stopped, whether from surprise at the noise or from experiencing an echo of the pleasure.

"You're good at this," Dean said hoarsely, rocking his hips hesitantly back into Castiel's hand. Cas made sure to brush over that spot again and Dean shivered. If this was how three fingers felt, how would Cas's dick feel? Dean cleared his throat, mouth going dry at the thought. "You been watching more porn behind my back?"

"No," Cas replied, voice a low rumble. His fingers were fully inside Dean now, spreading the lube and rubbing against his prostate on every spread-drag-push. The pain had lent a sharp edge to the pleasure, but was quickly being overtaken. Dean wanted to ask how the hell Cas knew how to do this, then, to take him apart with only his fingers and make him like it, because a virgin should not be this good. A man that practically ran from a brothel should not be sitting here calmly, knuckle-deep in Dean's ass and making him understand just why some guys loved taking it.  
Cas must have sensed the question, or at least the gist, because he continued speaking.

"You've done this before, to other men. You know how to prepare them, to make their bodies ready for you," Cas said. Dean groaned, an equal mix of fond exasperation and arousal.

"Really need to get you porn with better- oh." Cas rubbed against his prostate, the momentary spike of bliss shutting Dean up. Cas withdrew his fingers completely then and Dean moaned softly at the loss. The pain had all but vanished, but Castiel's cock was a lot thicker than three fingers. Dean felt the now-familiar mix of fear and anticipation as Castiel squirted an overly-generous amount of lubricant into his palm and went about slicking himself up. Dean heard him moan at the contact, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. Dean's pulse raced at the sight and Castiel opened his eyes again, meeting Dean's gaze. 

Dean leaned forward and kissed him, rocking his hips into Castiel's body to get some badly-needed friction on his dick. He felt strangely empty and he wanted Cas in him, a feeling staggeringly at odds with everything he thought he knew about himself, with everything he had expected from tonight.

"Doesn't explain how you know," Dean managed, breaking the kiss.

"At this level of connection, we can see each other's surface thoughts. You experienced it earlier," Cas said.

Dean nodded. He couldn't forget suddenly fantasizing about himself getting fucked through the mattress.

"When I touched you, your mind called up memories of doing this. I let you guide me," the angel explained. 

He placed one hand on Dean's hip and pulled him in a little, angling him just right. The other hand was on Castiel's cock, holding himself steady. Dean felt the tip brush his entrance and he took a shuddering breath, gripping the angel's shoulders for balance. Cas ran his hand soothingly up and down Dean's side and kissed him as he slowly pushed in.

Dean felt his body stretch to accommodate the thick length. He made a quiet little noise into Castiel's mouth as he took in the wide part of the head, groaning at the burn in his muscles. Cas had moved both of his hands up to Dean's hips, holding him in an iron grip as he lowered the human down. Cas sheathed himself inside Dean slowly, almost too slowly, making soft little pleased grunts at the heat and pressure around his cock.

"C'mon, Cas, do it. Just do it," Dean said, clenching his muscles around the intrusion and trying to wiggle free of Castiel's hands. It felt strange to have another man inside him, even stranger to be enjoying it and wanting more, to want to feel Castiel's hips beneath his ass and know that he'd taken all there was to take and then try to get even closer. Dean wanted it and he wanted it now; he could have a crisis about enjoying it this much later.

"Dean," Cas breathed, hips jerking up and plunging his dick suddenly deeper into the human's body. Dean moaned loudly, and he rotated his hips, rewarded when Cas finally let him go and Dean sank down, bottoming out in a last, slow slide.

Dean shifted, breathing deeply. He'd be feeling this tomorrow; hell, he would be feeling this for a week. Castiel's arms were around his back, hands wrapped over his shoulders to keep him in place as Cas shook.

"Dean... I need to..." Cas said, eyes glazed with want. Dean nodded, pressing shallow, open-mouthed kisses to Castiel's lips, neither having the breath for anything deeper.

"Yeah, yeah I know, just give me a second... need to get used to you," Dean said. His body squeezed around Cas again and the angel whimpered; that was it. Dean lifted himself up a bit on his knees, giving the angel room to move. Cas gripped him tighter. "Yeah, do it. Fuck me, Cas."

Cas didn't need telling twice. He held Dean steady and rocked his hips up. Dean moved with him, helped by Castiel's arms, and shortly the angel's hold was the only thing keeping him upright. Every shallow, awkward thrust dragged against his prostate just right and the friction was fucking amazing. The pleasure made his legs weak and he tried to move with Cas, to make this good for the angel, but his hands were just spasming on Castiel's shoulders and it wasn't enough, not yet.

"More, Cas," Dean panted, because he was close, he could feel it, Cas's pleasure and his own mixing and getting ready to explode but it wasn't there. "Fuck, harder."

Cas growled and then he wasn't just holding Dean up, he was pulling Dean in and Dean was falling forward. He didn't even have time to be startled at the change in position before Cas rolled them over and Dean was on his back, thighs still clenched around the angel's hips. Cas loomed over him, their bodies still intimately joined. 

"Is this better, Dean?" he asked somewhat roughly, grabbing Dean's knees and pushing them back to almost touch the human's chest. The new position made Dean feel even more exposed, more helpless, but this was Cas. Cas would take care of him.

"Yes," Cas growled, apparently catching the thought, and he began to move. He had more space here and took full advantage of it, pulling out until just the head of his dick remained inside Dean and then slamming back in. Cas pushed Dean into the mattress with angelic strength, keeping him in place while he thrust. Dean couldn't even move his hips. All he could do was lie there while Castiel found just the right angle, sending bliss like fire along every nerve. Dean could feel Castiel's pleasure as well and even though Dean was close, getter closer with each snap of the angel's hips, Cas was even closer, his movements already becoming erratic.

Dean slid one hand to the back of Castiel's neck and pulled him in for kisses that lacked finesse but made up for it in wet heat. Dean grabbed his erection with his other hand, pumping it in time to Castiel's thrusts and sending himself speeding along to catch up to Cas.

He felt the bond react, reaching out for him and dragging him along. It brought his mind closer to Castiel's, blurring the lines between them until it felt like they were once again a single entity, one for which every motion was sheer joy. There was a sense of urgency, of need, and their movements became more and more frantic as the bliss built, grew white-hot. It reached a crescendo and consumed their joint mind utterly, leaving nothing but DeanandCas and pure, undiluted pleasure.

Time stretched to infinity in this shared space, as it had the first time their souls came together. It drew out their orgasm for what felt like an inhuman amount of time, the bliss only slowly cooling to post-coital satisfaction as the bond began to gently unravel once more. The pleasure dissipated first, leaving only that mix of feelings and warmth Dean had felt earlier.

Dean came to with Castiel's weight heavy on top of him and the angel's dick softening inside of him. Cas pulled out and Dean could feel the slickness between their bodies and the sudden wetness dripping down his thighs. He grimaced at the mess, but the afterglow was still too strong for him to actually do anything about it. Cas rolled off of Dean and lay on his back, though he kept his eyes on the human's face. Dean returned the gaze, smiling softly in a way he only ever did when he felt this good.

It had been a long time since he'd smiled like this.

"That was..." he said, voice trailing off as he realized he didn't have a word. The bond pulsed softly his mind as it faded to embers, always present but no longer connecting his mind to Castiel's as deeply as it had during sex.

"Yes, it was," Castiel replied, hearing what Dean couldn't express. Dean's smile morphed into a grin and he started to lean towards Cas, only to halt and wince as what felt like every muscle from his lower back to his thighs began to scream in protest. There was a hint of apology knocking at the back of his head, but Dean waved it off.

"Hey, I said I wanted to feel it for a week," he said, getting himself comfortable on the mattress. The afterglow was wearing off and exhaustion was taking its place. Dean yawned and rubbed at his face, then laid his arm across the pillows on the motel bed. "Can you angel-mojo us clean and get the blankets?"

"I could heal you," Cas offered, already moving two fingers to press against Dean's forehead. Dean smirked and shook his head.

"No. I kind of like the reminder," he said. He shifted a bit as Cas lowered his hand, wincing a little as pain shot up his spine. "Maybe just a little?"

Cas touched him and the pain immediately eased to a dull ache. His skin felt fresh and clean, as if he had just stepped out of a hot shower rather than just finished coming down from some truly excellent sex. He sighed and relaxed onto the mattress, eyelids getting heavier.

When he didn't feel the expected dip next to him, he cracked an eye open. Cas was holding the edge of the blankets, watching Dean with a mix of fascination and love; it startled Dean to realize how comfortable he was with that.

"You going to lay down with me or what?" Dean asked, raising his arm a bit in invitation.

Castiel nodded.

"I don't need to sleep," he commented, laying down next to Dean. Dean nodded, curling his arm around the angel's shoulders and pulling him closer.

"I do," Dean said. He didn't say anything further, just tightened his grip as though afraid Cas would pull away.

Cas threw his arm gently over Dean's waist and Dean relaxed, shutting his eyes. He turned his head and pressed a blind, sleepy kiss to somewhere on Castiel's face. Judging from the give of the skin, it was his cheek.

"'Night, Cas," Dean said, already beginning to drift off. "See you in the mornin'."

"Goodnight, Dean. Sleep well," Castiel replied quietly.

Dean felt some of Castiel's affection for him slowly seep into his mind and he grinned, projecting gratefulness as he sank into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

Castiel watched Dean for a few minutes, enjoying the remnants of pleasure his orgasm had left in him. He didn't feel tired, exactly, but rather decadently lazy.

Still, there was one rather pressing matter of business he had to take care of before he could allow himself to indulge. He focused his attention inward, his eyes glazing over as he moved through the layers of his consciousness.

The battleground was old, the same large, empty space where he had fought his hallucinations until he realized that they could not be caged, not as long as he had no anchor. The bond cloaked him in gold as he approached the area. Lucifer sat in the center, on a throne made of what looked like human bones, waiting.

"So, brother, it has come to this," the archangel said regretfully, spreading his hands as if to indicate the chamber.

Castiel shook his head.

"You are not Lucifer," he said calmly, with an absolute certainty he hadn’t felt in months. Lucifer's form fizzled, throne and archangel briefly appearing as the dark red mass of madness it truly was before snapping back. Even so, Castiel had seen it.

"Are you certain, Cassie?" Lucifer asked silkily, pushing himself up to stand. Castiel lifted a hand and held it out, palm facing the hallucination and fingers splayed. His eyes and hand began to glow pure white and a circle of light suddenly ignited, Lucifer and his throne at the center. Lucifer glared at the light hatefully, form flickering once more between what he truly was and how first Sam and then Castiel had seen him. Jets of white light sprang from the outline, curving well over Lucifer's head to fuse together. Within seconds, there was a dome-like cage around Lucifer, trapping him.

Lucifer laughed, cold and ugly.

"Do you really think this flimsy thing can hold me for long?" he asked walking up to one of the bars and flicking it with a finger. It vibrated. Lucifer scoffed. "It's barely better than your previous attempts, and those hardly worked well for you, did they?"

Castiel ignored him and brought his other hand up, concentrating on the bond he shared with Dean. He could still vaguely sense the hunter's mind, though it felt miles away and was shrouded by sleep. He reached and felt Dean respond unconsciously, his soul opening up and offering whatever energy Cas needed to make the Cage complete.

Lucifer's smirk vanished as the thin bars of his cage suddenly thickened and grew, spreading outwards towards one another to make an unbroken whole. His face contorted in rage and he exploded outwards into a cloud of red smoke, darting for the quickly-vanishing holes in the Cage.

The Cage sealed itself, trapping the madness inside. Castiel watched it rage against the translucent gold-and-white glowing walls, relieved when, despite the shaking, the walls showed no signs of immediate collapse.

The smoke coalesced into Lucifer again, though this time he was uniformly the color of blood from head to foot.

"This isn't over," he growled, voice no longer similar to Lucifer's. "You cannot kill me. You cannot get rid of me. I will always be here, in your head."

Castiel turned away from it and began the trip back through his consciousness to where his waking mind resided. The madness broke into an even greater frenzy then, throwing itself against the walls of its new Cage and shouting abuse, but the shouts reached Castiel's ears as mere whispers and then not even that as he returned to wakefulness.

Dean stirred next to Cas, blinking his eyes open slowly and making sleepy, questioning noises.

"Go back to sleep," Cas said softly, squeezing Dean's hip lightly. "Everything is all right."

Within minutes, Dean had dropped back off. Whether it was from the little bit of extra drain he'd feel until he grew accustomed to lending some of his power to the Cage in his bondmate's head or from trust in Castiel or some mixture of the two, Cas didn't know.

He curled up closer to Dean, thinking over his words to the hunter.

For the first time in months, his head was completely clear. Lucifer - at least Castiel's perception of him - was trapped and would trouble him no more, barring an absolute disaster. The madness would be able to whisper through any cracks in the Cage when Castiel had exhausted himself, but a few whispers were much easier to deal with than hallucinations that changed all his perception of time, place, and company.

He had Dean. He had never allowed himself to hope for completion of the bond and not only had they merged their souls, but they had melded in the human way as well. It had been glorious and Cas wouldn't mind doing it more often. Next time, he thought he wished to be the receiving partner.

He settled down to wait for morning, knowing that when dawn came, Sam would be back with breakfast for all three of them. They would discuss plans for the day and head out, seeking some way to defeat the Leviathans and taking care of any supernatural evil between here and that end goal.

And Cas would be with them.

Always.

The End


End file.
